Eric Sable Visions in Twilight
by Steven Cooper
Summary: As Eric Sable enters his third year at Hogwarts, he finds himself driven by new questions, new talents, new challenges, and new experiences.
1. Chapter 1

The rain was falling in sheets as Eric Sable walked through the streets of London, lead by his current guardian and landlady, Mrs. Peal. Although the rain was miserable, it did grant him an excuse to cover his waist-long braid, which would no doubt draw undesired attention. Their destination was the Ministry of Magic.

Eric looked up to his guide, trying to match her brisk steps. "May I ask why we're walking to the Ministry?"

Mrs. Peal answered clearly and patiently. "The wizarding community likes your work, but we'd like to see more of it. This petition will allow you to use a limited amount of magic to speed things up." She patted the rolled parchment in her cloak confidently.

"Um, I knew that. I mean, why are we _walking_ to the Ministry?" Eric was sure Mrs. Peal knew what he meant. The Floo Network was far more efficient. The fact was, Eric knew the principles and practices of Apperation for some time. However, he was sure that Professor Dumbledore would lose his understanding nature if he so much as thought Eric was popping in and out of places before he took his O.W.L.s, which were still two years ahead of him.

"It's a matter of diplomacy. We'll have a much easier time getting you a license to practice within your own shop if we demonstrate a proper amount of prudence prior to obtaining it." It was clear that she had a good amount of experience dealing with ministers, and was determined that this would proceed without a hitch.

She directed him into an unremarkable phone booth, in which she swiftly dialed. A pleasant, disembodied voice happily rang out. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business." Mrs. Peal rapidly snapped out, "Clareone Peal and Eric Sable to submit a petition for a special waiver and license."

The happy voice informed them of the location to have their wands registered, badges were flicked out to them ( Eric Sable – Waiver and License ) and the booth sank into the ground. It wasn't long, however, before the booth opened out into an open atrium, complete with finished floors and a central fountain. They went through all required motions, though Eric got the impression that his guide wasn't overly fond of all the Ministry's procedures.

At length, they stepped to the lifts, only to be stopped by an overly chipper voice. "Oh, good heavens! Is that you, Clareone?" A spry, red haired man was gamboling over to them. Though he seemed a little thin, he gave off an exuberant energy that seemed to wash over everything close to him.

Mrs. Peal stopped and turned, suddenly looking quite happy. "Arthur, dear, it's been ages. How's Molly and all your darling children? There were, let's see; seven of them, with half still in school. How do you do it.?"

Arthur seemed to take it all in stride. "We make do well enough, though that does remind me. I know I owe you…"

Her features suddenly snapped sharply. "One more word, Arthur Weasley, and I'll box your ears. I never want to hear about you or your family owing me or mine anything for ten times my life. Am I completely clear? Good! I, on the other hand, owe Molly for those delightful recipes. I think a new kitchen table and chairs would suit her nicely. Eric, you will see to it?" Her eyes locked onto Eric's face. Finding himself anticipating a swift backhand ( or worse ) if he refused, he quickly nodded.

Arthur seemed extremely embarrassed. "Clareone, that's far too much …"

"I **_am_** a merchant, Arthur! That means I'm capable of appraising a value for what I receive, unless you wish to dispute that?" Her face screamed volumes about what she would do to anyone wanting to take up that challenge. Arthur quickly relented. Having settled the discussion, she guided Eric to an opening lift. "Right. You just see to all those nasty enchanted artifacts and leave us to the details. Oh, your anniversary is next month, isn't it?" As the doors closed, she turned to Eric. "That's ten chairs and a full sized table, ready by next month. Any questions?"

"Light varnish or dark?" Eric was suddenly very anxious about the outcome of the petition. This would be an extremely challenging job without some enchantments to speed things along, and failing promised dire consequences.

The elevator sped down level after level before finally reaching level two ( Department of Magical Law Enforcement ). As they stepped out of the lift, Eric could see a variety of workers heading this way or that, some of them suddenly looking sideways as Mrs. Peal walked by. At length they reached a set of heavy, dark stained and polished doors marked 'Wizengamot Administration Services'. She straightened herself and patted her hair delicately in place. Eric picked up on her desire to make an impression, bolting to open the door for her. A subtle nod was the only response she gave him, reassuring him of how well he did.

As they entered the office, they could see a receptionist, flanked by scores of clerks processing paper. The receptionist was a dark haired witch, immaculately dressed and sharply coiffed. "Can I help you?"

"I require the Clerk for the Second Undersecretary to the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic responsible for Acceptable and Licensed Deviations from General Codes and Directives. We will also require a Clerk of the Exchequer for Licenses and Fees." She blinked once. "I have an appointment."

Eric noted that the receptionist seemed extremely annoyed for some reason. "Row six - table ten." The partition gate swung wide.

The clerk at the table was a balding, wiry gentleman. "Mrs. Peal and Eric Sable: ten forty-five. Won't you sit down, please?"

She rested her hand on Eric's shoulder, holding him in place. "We have no intention of remaining that long. In accordance with Article Eighty-Three of the Code of Ordinances, a deviation from any decree can be licensed if a just and/or reasonable explanation can be provided that such a deviation can be allowed without violating the intent of the decree in question." She drew out a satchel from her cloak, and began producing a series of forbidding documents. "Here is a petition signed by merchants of Diagon Alley requesting that such a license be issued. Here is a seventy-six page thesis offering an interpretation of the purpose of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, it's intent, and why this license would not violate that purpose." She then drew out a small pouch of coins. "Finally, here are twenty-five galleons; which, by the Ministry Schedule of Fees and Fines, is the appropriate charge for a license of this kind."

The clerk blinked three times, then drew out a prewritten parchment. Filling in the lines, he turned the paper to Eric. "Sign here, here, and date here." A second clerk arrived, counted the coins presented, and provided a receipt. "Have a nice day."

As they left the office, Eric turned to Mrs. Peal. "That was incredible."

"Hardly, dear boy. It's simply a matter of knowing the questions and possible objections before they are presented. Faced with a mountain of well prepared documentation, it is far easier for an administration to take the money and go with the flow. Now, this license is limited to your workshop. No spell, charm, or enchantment may have any effect outside of that shop, or the license will be nullified and you will be dragged in to court. Do you understand?"

Eric nodded. Reading the fine print, it was still clear that the license gave him a free hand within the walls of the shop, allowing considerable latitude. There was a line or two about 'pursuit of gainful employment', but that could be viewed a number of ways. Besides, Diagon Alley was a place of constant spellcasting. The ethereal static that would cause should cover any special projects he could come up with. Most important would be to set up the shop such that he would know if he was being watched or not.

Mrs. Peal tugged on Eric's cloak to move him along, quickening her step. It seemed that she wished to be out of the Ministry as soon as possible. The reason why presented itself just shy of the lifts. "Well, well; Mrs. Clareone Peal. It has been some time since you've been here."

She turned to face the Minister of Magic, her face chiseled into unexpressive passivity. "Minister Fudge. I had hoped that my passing through would not have disturbed the good order of your work schedule."

"Oh, hardly, my dear. It's just that, after eleven years, to have you step back into the halls of the Ministry has caused quite a stir." Fudge seemed to be fairly happy to see her, but Eric had the impression that there was something in the air between them that he just couldn't put words to – something belied by their relative civility.

"I am here strictly on a business matter that has been concluded." The lift arrived, and she wasted no time directing Eric into it.

"That's disappointing. I was rather hoping that, after all this time, you might have reconsidered your leaving."

Her stance took an air of even dismissal. "You know my feelings on that matter, Cornelius. Goodbye!"

"Clareone, please!" The lift doors cut him off. Eric stood next to her in resolute silence through the remainder of the journey. As they arrived in the main atrium, she guided him over to the Floo Network.

"The Leaky Cauldron!" A burst of flame and she was gone. Eric thought it best that he followed suit. Arriving at the Cauldron, he found that she had already chosen a table, ordered lunch, and was waving him down to sit. "Well, I expect a story is in order."

Eric was taken aback by her directness. "I don't really need to know."

"Two grown adults make a spectacle of themselves in a crowded hallway, and you don't want to know more? Don't be ridiculous." Eric quickly swallowed his smirk. It was true that he wanted to know more; he was just surprised that she was willing to explain.

"I began my witch's career in 1965 as an Auror. I was fairly good at it, too. However, the job sets you apart from others, which I wasn't fond of, so after three years I obtained a job in administration. While that did give me an absolute mastery of bureaucracy, it was also incredibly boring, so I moved over to Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

"It was quite a revelation discovering how poorly most creatures are dealt with. It's as if we can accept magic and all it presents, but can't understand the basic truth that the magical world holds more than one intelligent creature in it." She paused in her retelling to sip some tea, as if the drink could wash away a bitter memory. "I'm sorry, I'm digressing.

"When Voldemort went public, I returned to the Aurors as an investigator, staying with the department until he was struck down. I planned to remain through the entire clean-up. You see, it was my desire that everyone accused had proper counsel. It wasn't out of any kind of mercy, I simply didn't want our community to think that we were chaining people in Azkaban simply because we could. There would be trials, the trials would proceed in good order, and the facts would condemn the guilty.

"One case came before me: a mass-murderer. Every shred of evidence pointed to his guilt, but he insisted on his innocence. In a fit of frustration, I suggested as a joke that he accept a pensive cast to show me what happened. To my amazement, he agreed. So, he was bound such that he couldn't deceive the spell, and it was cast. His memories bore out his claim – he was innocent.

"Cornelius, however, refused to have the pensive entered as evidence. I tried everything, including recommending that it be cast in the presence of the Wizengamot to provide direct testimony. You see, even if he had killed all those people but somehow didn't remember it correctly, that meant that he was insane. That leads to consignment to St. Mungo's, rather than to Azkaban. However, my pleas were to no avail for the simple fact that there was no trial. He was condemned without a hearing and sentenced to Azkaban."

There was another pause while she recovered herself. "I was devastated. Everything I had tried to accomplish as a counselor had been thrown aside, making a mockery of every other case I had participated in. It was a personal horror to know that my efforts didn't make the proceedings any more legitimate. The system had failed. So, I quit the Ministry altogether and took up the buying, selling and auctioning of antiquities."

Patting Eric's arm, she smiled. "I miss it sometimes, but if I hadn't have left, I would not have been able to look after you."

Never having had a family, her gesture warmed his heart. "Thanks. One thing, though: you just spilled out You-Know-Who's name…"

"Voldemort, Eric – Voldemort. If I can't teach you anything else, learn this one thing: never let your enemy's propaganda get the better of you. Voldemort has built up a superstition regarding his name in a community prone to strange things, and that's how he likes it. There are extremely few beings in the whole of the universe who's names carry any power. He would have you believe he's one of them. So long as people consider him larger than life, fear will always be his most powerful ally."


	2. Chapter 2

Eric sat by a round dining table. The common room they were sitting in performed several functions: kitchen, dining room, parlor, and Willy's bedroom. Willy was a house-elf: and had been Eric's companion and caretaker for as long as he could remember. Although Eric had suggested that the elf could wall off a section for himself, Willy wouldn't have it. The shop had three other rooms: A workshop, a studio, and Eric's bedroom. Combining all these functions saved him a considerable amount on rent.

Staring across the table at him were his three resident companions. The smaller two were Midget and Widget; two burrow owls who Eric took in, developing them into first-rate wizard owls. The largest of these belonged to Willy, who was currently serving an eight-ounce steak with all the trimmings. The house elf looked anxiously on as Eric poked at his dinner. "Master Eric is not pleased? Willy tried so hard to prepare a dish you would like!"

Eric's head bobbed upward. "No, it's fine – really! It's just, well, I was talking with Mrs. Peal today, and she mentioned the way wizards deal with other magical creatures." Eric paused, examining the cleanliness of the room, his meal, all the freshly-laundered clothes sitting on his bed. "Willy, you do a fabulous job with this place. I mean, last summer I spent all night keeping up with chores. This year I'll actually be able to rest after a day's work, and it's worth more than I can think of to have you around for company." He paused, setting his utensils down and locking eyes with the elf across from him. "I just have to know: are you happy here?"

Willy's eyes flooded with tears. "Oh, sir! Willy is overjoyed to have Master Eric to look after. The shop is not at all to great for Willy to clean, and you are the kindest master an elf can hope for." Willy's eyes grew wide and fretful. "Master Eric isn't going to send Willy away, is he?"

"Oh, heavens no!" Eric immediately delved into the sirloin before him. "Dinner is excellent, and it'll be nice to be able to just read while the shop is cleaned. Everything you do for me is just fine." Eric stopped to catch the elf's eyes again. "It's just; you're not simply a servant – you're a friend and I want you to be happy. Now: if taking care of me and cleaning this place makes you happy, then that's how it will be."

"Master Eric, Willy wants nothing in the world more than to see to your needs. Promise you'll never dismiss Willy!"

"I promise: never another word." Eric tore through the remainder of his dinner with vigor. Everything seemed to taste even better knowing that Willy was doing what he wanted. As he finished his dinner, it occurred to him that Willy hadn't joined him. "You know, it never occurred to me to ask: do you eat?"

"Willy has this or that while he's preparing the Master's dinner." He seemed especially proud of his diligence.

"Well, I don't want a fat house-elf, but you're not to cheat yourself either." Eric smiled at his friend, then suddenly stiffening when he saw the tears well up again. "Relax, Willy. I'm not being generous, I'm being practical. A properly fed house-elf cleans the shop far better than a starving one." Willy smiled and quickly dabbed his eyes. Eric reminded himself that he'd have to be careful not to be too kind to Willy. House elves just don't handle charitable manners well.

Eric settled in as the evening grew late. Ever since he had left Hogwarts, there was a nagging desire he just couldn't pursue. He had written Hagrid inquiring about his family, but his adoptive uncle wasn't very helpful. It was Dumbledore's handwriting on the letter Midget brought back.

_Greetings young lad. I trust all is well._

_Before I attend to certain questions you had sent us, a few words: _

_bahweedle – rethriptul – glaphlumph. Try to remember them, for they_

_are most enjoyable._

( Eric sighed, having never understood his headmaster's eccentricities. )

_While we understand your desire to know more about your heritage, I_

_regret to say that there isn't much we can tell you. You were left with_

_us as an infant, and we were unable to establish any family that you_

_might be able to contact._

_It is my fondest wish that this does not dampen your spirits overmuch. _

_I am rather hoping that you could find it in your heart to adopt those _

_around you as your family. I know I speak for both Hagrid and Mrs._

_Peal when I say that we all care for you very much, and hope that if_

_you ever feel the desire to speak to someone as family, that you would_

_seek us out._

_Best wishes for a safe summer,_

_A. Dumbledore_

While the letter was more than reassuring that he wasn't alone, it didn't change the fact that he knew nothing of where he came from. What if he had a family: one that had spent the last eleven years thinking that he died with his mother? Wouldn't it be a comfort to them and him to finally be re-united? He wouldn't necessarily have to give up all the friends he had. Hagrid would always be his beloved uncle, Mrs. Peal his favorite aunt, and he'd never let go of the strong feelings he had for Dumbledore as the only grandfather he had ever really known. But to have his own family, to learn who his parents were; that was something none of them could give him, no matter how they tried.

However, the question came down to where to begin. While Hagrid and Dumbledore both admitted that his mother died, there were too many obituaries to go through during that time. It would take forever to trace them all. What he needed to do was remember what his parents looked like, but since he was only an infant when he saw them last, that would be impossible.

… or would it?


	3. Chapter 3

The pattern started with the Pensieve – a basin of memory. The governing forces of it were straightforward: the basin formed a link with the spellcaster, allowing one to sift through memories. It needed to be powerful, so that it could find memories that even the spellcaster didn't know he had. It had to be meticulous – every detail was needed. Most of all, it had to be safe, for there wasn't much point to discovering a buried memory if he burned his mind out in the process.

Eric focused the patterns on sensation, sticking to those things directly sensed. He established rules for an indirect bonding, which allowed the pattern to operate aligned with the subject, rather than seeking to breach natural barriers. He introduced functions of chronology, so that seeing items in a presented image could provide a frame of reference from which to proceed. Finally, he brought in a control function to allow the subject to master the pattern logically, rather than allowing it to proceed relationally.

It took a month of charting by candlelight before Eric could finally look up to his house-elf with satisfaction. "Willy, I present to you – the Mnemolodion!"

The elf looked quizzically at the oversized page of loops, sigiled circles and ribbons. Finally, he turned to Eric and smiled. "Yes, it looks quite nice."

Eric chuckled. "It doesn't look like anything right now, but this defines the basic principles and elements needed to create a device to scroll through everything I've seen since I was born. With this, I should be able to find an image of my mother."

The process was a bit harder than it looked on paper. Because he was also pursuing his carpentry to keep the money coming, it was the end of July before an apparatus was constructed. The device was little more than a large brass circle in front of a mirror, with a long bar behind it. Two clamps held a fresh strand of Eric's hair, a small silver ring hanging upon it. On either side of the mirror sat small water dishes with floating candles.

Eric set the final adjustments, then drew out his wand. _"Chrononimbus – temporus optix theatrum!"_ The words conjured light spilling onto the feeble contraption, which shook and shuddered in response. For a moment it appeared that nothing happened, then slowly a mist crept up from the water dishes, framing the mirror and swirling about the brass ring before floating centerward, in complete defiance to gravity, drafts, and common sense.

As Eric looked on, an image formed in the mirror. It was his drawing as he finished it several weeks ago. Looking beyond the image to the strand, he cast again: _"Leviosum Officiux!"_ The silver ring floated with the hair strand centered. Eric took his wand and slowly arced his hand towards the ring, which responded by skimming back. As it did, images flashed and danced within the mists, far too fast for the eye to see.

Periodically, Eric stopped the ring and looked into the glass to see images of his childhood, all of which included one room or another on the Hogwarts grounds. However, the buildings seemed to grow taller and taller as the ring moved backwards, then finally it happened – there was an image in the glass Eric didn't remember, a room he didn't recognize. He could make out the fact that he was lying in a wooden frame – a crib, most likely. Suddenly he snapped his wand upward: _"Frijix totalus!"_ The spindly contraption seized up and was absolutely motionless.

Within the mirror's image was a woman with long, jet black hair framing an angular face. Her eyes were narrow and sharp, her nose small and pointed, and her mouth a thin line that barely revealed lips. Each element would have, on it's own, perhaps seem sinister or unattractive, yet together they formed a very balanced presentation which reached to Eric's heart and pulled with a strength he hadn't anticipated. There was no doubt in his mind: this was the face of his mother.

His hands bolted to the paper in front of him, scrambling to sketch out her basic features. As much as he hated the time he was taking, more magic was out of the question since it could have serious consequences if it mixed poorly with the spells he had already cast. Besides, he was already wondering if the Ministry of Magic was growing suspicious with so many spells being cast at once. He couldn't chance another. While seeking as much accuracy as possible, he produced a passable drawing that highlighted her most striking features.

Eric released his holding spell and searched further. The dark woman appeared over and over. In fact, before his eyes spotted Hagrid, she was the only person he ever saw. His search upward and downward of the farthest reaches of his life were of no avail, and at length the mnemolodion fell apart under the stress. This didn't bother him too much. He didn't expect it to survive the effort, and it's continued existence may have ended up more trouble than benefit. He folded up the pattern-map he used to create it and tucked it into a leather pouch. Such things were valuable, and one never knew when such a thing might be useful again.

Eric looked down upon the sketch. It was a start, and quite enough to quickly pare down the list of people who could have been his mother. Yet as much as he had learned, he was slightly frustrated over the experience, for it was clear that he had never set eyes on his father.


	4. Chapter 4

The Daily Prophet offices were fairly expansive, and fairly bustled with activity as wizards and witches busied themselves with the effort of putting out daily editions using enchanted presses. Reporters hurriedly scribbled out articles while photographers prepared their pictures, crafting press plates to produce moving images in the midst of pressed text.

"Excuse me, young man – can I help you?" Eric found himself facing a rickety man in a tweed jacket, smoking a rather twisted and crushed cigar. He had a wild eyed expression, as if a young man standing in the Daily Prophet's office was the most fascinating thing that had happened to him in a very long time.

"Um, yes sir. Does this office have an archive?"

"The finest archives one could possibly hope for. Administered by an insightfully clever wizard who invented his very own means of cataloging articles, I might add." He puffed upon his cigar, staring into Eric's face as if to snatch a coin off his nose.

Shaking off the uneasiness this examination was giving him, Eric inquired further. "May I meet this wizard, sir?"

The man withdrew his cigar from his mouth and beamed a crooked smile. "Rodney Wyndham, at your service."

The spindly Rodney led Eric back through the hurried office into what appeared to be a vast warehouse of wooden paper racks. On each stand held fifty two long slatted shafts with newspapers bound within them. At the front of the warehouse was a small desk. A bank of slots was above it, each slot containing a scroll.

"As you can see, if someone was simply searching these papers for a given article, they may never find what they're looking for. That is why I developed this master index! Now, what are _you_ looking for?"

"A report of a murder: shortly before, well, _he_ disappeared."

Rodney beamed his wicked smile again. "An extensive subject. You'll have a wonderful variety if you're not particular. I suppose, though, that you have a few more details than that."

Eric sighed, then drew out the sketch he made. "She was the victim."

Rodney stared at the paper in disbelief. "No name? You have no date? Are you suggesting that all I have to work with is a hand-drawn sketch?" He drew himself from his desk to stare directly into Eric's face. The smell of his cigar was overpowering as he puffed agitated plumes of smoke. Unexpectedly, he broke into a wide smile. "Now that's what I like – a real challenge!"

Taking the sketch, he laid it out on the desktop. He then took a large scroll, set the pins into a cradle set, and attached small handles to each pin. Placing a monocle over one eye, he then wound out the scroll furiously, mumbling as he went. "I call it 'microprint'. Each scroll contains the compiled printings of an entire year, enchanted down to a more compact size." The parchment whipped by so quickly, Eric couldn't understand how the man could make out anything. Yet without warning, he stopped and spun the parchment back a few inches. "Here we are."

He grabbed Eric's shirt and started scuttling towards the racks. "Come along, now!" Reaching a rearward rack, he drew out one of the folded staves and laid out the papers. "Hmm, hmm, um-hmm – here! Is this the young lady?" Eric looked at the photo, still moving after over ten years, playing out the same scene over and over. The caption underneath indicated the victim as one Evelyn Sable.

"That's her!" Eric read on. The young woman was found in Knockturn Alley, apparently the victim of the Avada Kedavra. Investigators from the Ministry of Magic had searched the site thoroughly, but found no immediate clues regarding the identity of the murderer or the reason for the killing. As Eric looked on, figures moved in and out of the scene, then one caught his eye particularly – a tallish woman, very properly dressed, who seemed to be taking in every detail of the scene.

Eric was stunned. In the picture, as clear as could be, Clareone Peal was investigating his mother's death.


	5. Chapter 5

Mrs. Peal set down the teacup she was sipping from, smiling to Willy as he refilled it. "I'm not going to ask how you discovered my involvement. I get the impression that I'd rather not know." She pushed aside the notes Eric had set before her. "That was many years ago, when I returned to the Aurors. Now: to answer the questions you are inevitably going to ask. Yes, I investigated your mother's murder. Yes, I knew when I took you in that you were Evelyn Sable's son. No, we never found your father, or any particular trace that you ever had one, though obviously you do. No, we didn't find any trace of other living relatives. Finally; no, we never determined any reason why your mother was killed."

"Did you find anything out at all?"

She sat for a moment, staring into her cup. She then led Eric behind his shop to a storeroom. Small boxes lined the walls, filled with papers. "These are all my personal notes on unsolved cases. One never knows if they'll be needed, and I didn't trust the Ministry to take proper care of them or to allow access for people who needed them." She selected a small box and opened it.

"Age: 19. No criminal record, no sign of injury, and no indications of poison. Investigator concluded death by curse. Held residence in Hogsmeade under the name of Evelyn Sable. However, there were no records of her before that year, indicating that it was a false identity."

Eric looked up suddenly. "Don't I have grandparents?"

She paused. "There's no way to know. They didn't come forward when the murder hit the news, and there's no way to find them."

Eric became concerned. "Some one could have killed them too. You know, if someone had killed my grandparents, then my mother, won't they be after me?"

"Calm down Eric, you're jumping to conclusions. The sad truth is that things like that were happening while Voldemort was active. When he fell, his followers fell too, and the killings stopped. I wouldn't worry about it further." She set herself next to him, placed an arm across his shoulders, and gave him the most reassuring smile she had. "Now, Voldemort has been forced out of power, and you have an extremely talented ex-auror and the entire Hogwarts staff looking after you. I wouldn't give this too much more thought."

Eric turned and buried himself in her arms. Dumbledore was right – even if he never found his relatives, he still had a family.


	6. Chapter 6

Summer finished out with somewhat of a ruckus. News had gotten out that Azkaban Prison had lost one of it's inmates, a former follower of Voldemort. Everyone on the streets was getting to be rather nervous. Even the customers from Knockturn Alley looked as if there was something out there they didn't want to deal with. If that wasn't bad enough, it looked as if the row behind his shop had acquired a new stray. On and off for several nights, the rubbish bins were clearly rummaged through by something very large.

When Eric inquired about it, Mrs. Peal just dismissed it. "Stray dogs come and go. If you leave it be, it'll move on. It might be a good idea to bespell your cans shut, though. The collectors are used to this, and will disenchant them in the morning." Eric gave the message to Willy, who dutifully complied.

Carpentry orders were coming through as fast as he could put them out. In addition to his shop work, he often would make calls to repair built-in cabinets. Willy quickly proved to be worth more than Eric could imagine; for when word got out that he traveled with a house-elf, he found that any job could be taken or refused in absolute security. The extra set of eyes watching for his safety while he worked was more security than most living on Diagon Alley could hope to have.

The increasing number of students walking through the Alley was the first signs that school was coming. Eric waved to his fellow Ravenclaws, helped the Hufflepuffs, shook hands with the Gryffindors, and avoided the Slytherins. In the midst of all this he finally found Dorian Moon – his friend, confidant and ally.

Dorian, however, was in rather a state as he quickly ran to Eric. "Have you seen the textbook for Magical Creatures? It bites!"

"Don't you think that's a little hasty? Maybe it isn't the best written textbook ever, but you could hardly have had a chance to give it a proper reading."

Dorian waved his hands. "No; I mean **_it bites_**, as in you reach for it and it snaps at you!"

Eric had to smile. "That's hardly a surprise. Have you heard the news? After having his record cleared, Hagrid has become an instructor. He's teaching 'Magical Creatures'." Hagrid had been by a month ago, beaming with the news. Although he never actually finished at Hogwarts, Dumbledore felt that his years of experience as groundskeeper next to the Forbidden Forest and his overall knowledge of every kind of creature imaginable more than qualified him for the position. The school governors could hardly argue, since there wasn't exactly a large number of instructors seeking the position. Truth be told, the position of Magical Creatures Instructor was considered the only rival to Defense Against the Dark Arts as Hogwarts' Most Hazardous Posting.

Hagrid, however, was sure to skew that curve. Over the years Eric had seen dozens of extremely large and deadly creatures take swipes, stabs, and bites at Hagrid, only to find the Groundskeeper shrug it off. He didn't know what magic protected his guardian; Eric only knew that Hagrid appeared practically impervious to physical attack ( a fact that made up for his tendency to curl up in tears when things don't work out as he'd like them to ).

The fact that his adoptive guardian was now an instructor filled Eric with a mixture of pride and amused foreboding. While it was true that no one could possibly know more about enchanted creatures than Hagrid, it was also true that ( due primarily to his own personal fortitude and a heart full of love for all living beings ) he had a tendency to overlook minor details such as poison stingers, flaming breath, or foot-long fangs. Having armed himself with evenings given to defense and redirective spells, Eric looked forward to the coming year the way the more sadistic Quidditch fans look forward to a spectacular collision.

Having the afternoon to travel about, the two boys made the rounds, obtaining what materials they could carry for the upcoming year, examining the new items in the stores. Dorian paused particularly long at Quality Quidditch, where the new Firebolt was being displayed. "It's awesome!"

Eric examined it carefully. "That's a heavy compliment for something you haven't tried. They've streamlined it quite a bit, but the handle is getting narrow. Personally, I'd prefer the wider grip of the Nimbus. The Firebolt is a broom for someone who puts all their money on speed."

Dorian looked at Eric incredulously. "I suppose you could do better?"

Eric thought for a minute, then drew his friend aside. "You'd want ebonwood – mostly for appearance, but also for control – it's not springy or spongy, so your directives will get an instant response. Band the brush in four places to keep the shape or else you'll be getting drag. Now, the brush can be about a quarter diameter larger than that one: the drag on a well-kept broom is mostly based on the rider, so the brush can be big enough to slipstream behind him. With a large enough brush, you won't need the stirrups of the newer Nimbus."

Dorian looked at him. "You could make such a broom, couldn't you?"

"Maybe. I'm thinking of going into that when I graduate – custom crafted enchanted items. There's always a compromise when someone makes something that can be purchased. The best wizards can afford something made to order, and there may be good money to be had."

The two of them made their way back to the carpentry shop, discussing the possibilities of life after Hogwarts. When they arrived, however, they found a rather large crowd milling in front of his display window. Introducing himself a few times, he was able to part the group enough to reach the front door, which was flanked by two very serious looking wizards in black robes. Mister Blott was the first to shed any light on the situation. "I don't know what kind of trouble you've gotten into, my boy, but I suggest you own up to it. There are some very important people perusing your shop right now." Taking this unclear warning to heart, Eric stepped forward and introduced himself to the wizards at his door, who gestured that he was to enter immediately.

Inside the shop, he was met by a rather unusual group. Cornelius Fudge was standing in the entryway, flanked on either side by a pair of associates. They were facing off with a rather defiant Willy, who had blocked entry to any of the other rooms by levitating almost everything he could find. Hammers and chisels floated ominously in one entry while kitchen utensils dutifully defended the residential rooms.

Eric amused himself briefly with the scene before intervening. "Um, I don't mean to interrupt, but what may I ask is going on in my shop?"

The Ministry group turned to face Eric. To the left was Arthur Weasley, looking almost apologetic in his stance. To the right was a roundish woman. However, it was Fudge who answered first. "Ah, Mister Sable. May I present Inspector Delores Umbridge of the Ministry for Magical Abuses, and I believe you have met Arthur Weasley of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Ministry."

Eric's face crooked into an expression mixed of pleasant introductions and confusion. "Ma'am, Mister Weasley, it's a pleasure to meet both of you. May I know why I have such a distinguished group in my shop? If it's about an order, I'm afraid I can't take any more. I'm about to close up for the school year."

The woman spoke up, with a motherly voice that was most irritating in a patronizing sort of way. "I'm afraid not, Mister Sable. You see, we at the Ministry believe that you have been casting spells within your shop that violate the statutes against underage use of magic."

Not knowing how much they were aware of, Eric decided to open with a strong offense. "I trust the Inspector is aware that I am licensed to practice magic within the walls of this shop?"

"Indeed I am. However, what kind of magic you've been practicing is what interests us today. That is why we have come to inspect your shop."

Eric thought again. Arthur was looking about, sheepish and extremely nervous. From what he had heard from Knockturn Alley, Arthur Weasley's stature was deceiving. His fervor for his work was legendary, and his willingness to stand up to the most imposing of opponents was well known. This was more than rivaled by his ability to take care of himself. If he wasn't looking like he wanted a confrontation, that means that they probably didn't have just cause, proper warrants, or even a real good reason for being there.

While all this would put Eric in a position of power, perhaps the offensive wasn't the best stance in this case. "Willy, clear the entries for these good people. Minister Fudge, I have nothing to hide. Please, search all you like."

As the various implements found their way home, the other two ministers suddenly appeared as uneasy as Mister Weasley. Fudge spoke up for the group. "Well, thank you. I'm sure we can sort things out shortly." They proceeded to go through every room, poking and prodding every object until they came across Eric's layouts for the mnemolodion. The Inspector examined it quizzically. "What is this?"

Eric knew that lying wouldn't be helpful. However, three-quarters of the truth could pull him out of a sticky situation. "It's a paradigm for a magical device. I'm a bit ahead of my class, so I pursue extra-curricular activities on a regular basis. I'm planning to discuss the results of this one with Professor Flitwick when I return to Hogwarts."

The woman's face pulled into a tight smile. "I see. So: do you have a device produced from this diagram?"

It was the moment of truth. "No Ma'am. You see, the energies that work within these circles work against one another. A device made from this pattern wouldn't survive it's first use."

Her eyes screwed tight. "I see. Well, it's nice to see that the caliber of Hogwarts students hasn't diminished." Eric couldn't tell if she had figured out anything or not. One thing was sure, though: the remains of the mnemolodion were thrown out the same night it fell apart. They could suspect whatever they liked. The fact remained that they couldn't prove anything.

Two events occurred in rapid succession which brought the matter to a sudden close. The first was Arthur coming out from the residential rooms. "Cornelius, there's nothing here – nothing at all." The second was a shrill and angry voice tearing from the entrance. "Clear the way! I said clear the way before I split you both in HALF!" This announced that his landlady was now aware of the situation.

Fudge was quick in attempting to head Mrs. Peal off. "Now, Clareone, we had reason to believe that…"

Mrs. Peal, however, was not to be pacified, as she continued to scream at the top of her voice. "Spare me your protests of innocence and false reasons. We both know perfectly well why you're here, and it has nothing to do with Eric. Let me settle this matter for you and anyone else in hearing distance. No: Sirius Black has not contacted me. No: I have not made any arrangements for him. No: I wouldn't foster a fugitive from the law, even if I believed he was innocent. Now, are there any other questions I can answer for you, or would you rather sift through my trash?"

Cornelius and Delores shuffled uneasily, while Arthur shuffled to the rear to hide a smirk. With a parting comment of, "Well, I think we're done here," The Minister gestured for his co-workers to exit the shop. The crowd parted for the group of them, mumbling about what Clareone meant by an innocent fugitive and why the Minister would lie to search a carpentry shop.

Mrs. Peal, however, was unconsoled. "Of all the insolent, irresponsible, foolish things to do. As if I would involve you or any minor in an illegal activity. That man's brains have been addled." She sighed and turned to the door. "I have some errands to sort out, but we'll talk this evening."

As she left, Eric made his way into his parlor and collapsed, relieved that the whole matter was over. His relief was suddenly cut off by a soft voice. "She was right – his visit had nothing to do with you at all." Eric spun about to see a hooded figure sitting by a small table being served a cup of tea by Willy. As the cup was lifted to the hood, Eric saw just enough to inform him that Naomi Wainwright had come to visit.

"Is it safe?" Dorian Moon's head peered through the entrance. Now that the crowd had dispersed, Eric was relieved to find that his friend hadn't abandoned him. Willy brought out a small cup of chilled cider, which he gratefully accepted. With his circle of friends gathered in his parlor, Eric hoped that things would calm down briefly enough for him to enjoy the moment.


	7. Chapter 7

It turned out that Naomi had ducked into the carpentry shop because the Alley was a bit too busy for her comfort. While she knew where to go in order to get her school supplies, going it alone was another matter. Sending Willy off to the Leaky Cauldron to speak to her parents, Eric and Dorian escorted Naomi about the Alley, picking up the supplies she'd need.

As the evening began to creep up, the group headed towards the Cauldron for dinner. As they made their way into the dark tavern, they decided to try to sort out who would be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. They looked over their only clues: the books they just bought.

"_Guards Against Darkness _for us, and _Intermediate Wards and Defenses _for Naomi. Not exactly telling works, are they?" Dorian was seeming a bit pessimistic.

Naomi, however, wasn't one to back down from a challenge. "Well, they won't come right out and give us a biography. However, I think you'll agree that these appear to be reasonable works on the subject?"

Picking up on the idea of a bio, Eric checked the Author notes of both books. "Well, it's not another like Lockhart. The books are written by different people. Also, it isn't Snape. The author of '_Guards…_' was a Gryffindor, while '… _Wards and Defenses'_ was written by a Ravenclaw. If Snape was the new teacher, a book would be completely worthless if it didn't come from a Slytherin."

Taking a few minutes to flip through the texts, they all agreed that these were fairly well-written books, both easy to follow and interesting. Their new instructor might or might not be able to teach, but at least he could pick out a good textbook.

As dinner was being finished, the group was joined by Roger and Dorothy Wainwright. Looking as immaculately proper and professionally dressed as ever, Naomi's parents stood out like a beacon within the arcane surroundings of the Leaky Cauldron. Behind them was a most welcoming sight. Towering over all the other patrons was Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, and Eric's adoptive guardian.

Roger was the first to speak. "Boys, I see you've helped Naomi around the stores. Let me show my appreciation for your generosity. When you all head off for school next week, allow me to come around to take you to the station."

As much as Eric hated to accept favors from others, a ride to the station was not something he could refuse. While he made a point of locking up most of his Hogwarts property in the cellar room where he grew up, he still had to manage the cages for Midget and Widget, his two owls. This in addition to the various books and property he had to move tended to be too much. As for Dorian, his parents didn't have a muggle means of transportation, which meant that he, too, was lugging all his property around London public transportation. The two of them gratefully accepted Roger's offer.

"Excellent. I'll see you both in a week." Roger collected Naomi and his wife, then turned to leave only to find himself face to face with Lucius Malfoy.

"My my, don't we seem out of place? Let me see now: you would be Roger Wainwright, am I correct?" Roger and Dorothy were without expression. Naomi, however, curled under the hood of her cloak, giving Lucius all the confirmation he needed. "Ah, yes. You've been quite the fixture here lately, haven't you? Getting to know all the locals, our customs, how we come and go. Tell me, why should a muggle be so interested in our ways, or more to the point; what right do you think you have to question us?"

Roger, however, was not to be taken by surprise. "Mister Malfoy; if you are as well informed as I feel you are, then you know fully well what I've been doing here, who I've been talking with, and why. My daughter has abilities that is leading her to join your society, and as her father I wish to remain involved in her life. Some of your neighbors have learned that a man of my talents can be of use to them, and I've been working to assure the rest that I'm no threat."

Lucius turned indignant. "Know this, you worthless muggle – you never have been a threat to us, and you never could be. As for your daughter, no mudblood like her could ever hope to be one of my kind." He turned and stormed from the tavern.

Roger watched him as he left. "There goes a very unhappy man."

"Don' you give it anuther thought, Mr. Wainwright sir. Me an' the uthers here, we're all grateful for what ye've done fer us." One of Hagrid's massive hands found itself on Roger's shoulder, nearly knocking him over.

Roger, however, took the gesture in stride. "Most appreciated, Mr. Hagrid."

"Jes' 'Hagrid', ser. Ain't no reason to 'Mister' me." Hagrid looked down to the gathering of students. "There's my boy. Yeh got any time for yer uncle, Eric?"

Nodding goodbyes to the others, Eric followed Hagrid to a corner of the tavern. "Haven' had much time to catch up with yeh, boy. Wanted to let you know that I already gave permission for yer goin' to Hogsmeade this year."

Eric kept himself from bursting out cheering. The trips to Hogsmeade was one of the major advantages to being a third-year student. Instead, he simply found his way around to his guardian, wrapping him in a hug as best he could.

"Now now, boy, think nuthin' of it." He waved over a couple of drinks of cider. "Now, tell yer uncle all about what ye've been up to."


	8. Chapter 8

Eric sat in the main room of his shop. Willy was starting to seal things up for the year, the owls had figured out that they were about to leave, his books were packed, bound, or otherwise secured in a trunk, and everything looked like he could rest for a few days before the train ride. Considering all that had been going on, Eric was looking forward to a few uneventful days. However, things being what they were, there always seemed to be one or two loose ends to tie up.

The first arrived in the early evening. Mrs. Peal felt that it was important that Eric knew her opinion on why the Ministry of Magic felt they had to search his shop. "You see, Sirius was the man I told you about. He was the innocent man sent to Azkaban without a trial. Fudge is sure that he can't survive in the world without help. Mind you, Fudge doesn't know Sirius Black very well."

She turned to leave, but paused for a moment. "Eric, you should know that I did lie somewhat to Fudge. While it's true that I haven't been harboring or assisting Sirius Black, it's not like I don't have the desire to."

Eric looked at his landlady calmly. "It was him, wasn't it; the innocent man who was sentenced without a trial?"

Leaning against the doorpost, she sighed. "Yes, Eric, that was him. It seems that he has a stronger will than the Ministry gave him credit for. A dozen years in Azkaban hasn't blunted his wits, at least it doesn't seem that way. Yes, I'd help him if I was able, but I'm not, because I'm too obvious. Sirius knows that, and he'll do everything he can to stay out of Fudge's hands. They say he's headed for Hogwarts, and I'm sure he'll get there."

Eric trusted his landlady, more than anyone at the moment. "What should I do?"

"You, dear boy, are to do nothing at all. This is a matter for adults to deal with. I have faith that you'd do what is right, and I believe that you have an ability to achieve great things. That, however, is why you must not get mixed up in any of this. Stay out of the way, and keep your nose clean. The world needs good people content to be just that, too."

Mrs. Peal stepped over to Eric and kissed his forehead. "Now get to sleep. You've got to get everything here cleaned up. The Hogwarts Express leaves in a week."


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning found Eric sweeping the workroom, when a popping noise came from the parlor. Passing through, he found himself facing Albus Dumbledore. "Good morning, Eric. Getting all closed up, I trust?"

Having the Hogwarts Headmaster pop into his shop was a bit disconcerting. "Um, I'm fine, sir. What can I do for you?"

"I've been going over your work last year. It's quite impressive, and I have reason to believe that you've been working on a personal project?" Eric didn't want to know how the Headmaster found out. He produced the diagram for the mnemolodion. Dumbledore examined it at length. "A most impressive pattern. I suppose it's gone, though?"

"It falls apart once the spells that operate it have run it's course. It was either that, or risk injury to the subject."

Dumbledore smiled. "So, as much as I have tried to dissuade you from pursuing this line of inquiry, you have proceeded anyway. It is good to see that you've at least maintained a sense of priorities. So, in the middle of all of this, I hope you've found some time to work on your summer papers?" Eric reached into a wooden box and pulled out a series of bound scrolls. Dumbledore examined them briefly. "I have examined your work from last year, and have decided to give you the opportunity to test out of your classes this year. If you are successful, you will be spending your time instead as a teaching assistant, aiding the instructors while working on more advanced projects. Would you be interested in this opportunity?"

Eric was speechless. Teaching assistants had access to most of the school's resources. The projects that he could work on would be far in advance of the traditional work he was doing. It would mean sacrificing the time he usually spent on his own work, but the opportunity was too great to pass up. "Yes sir, I would be honored."

"I thought you might be. Your instructors will be stopping by to carry out examinations here over the week. Here is a list of items you will need for each test. I wish you the best of luck." Dumbledore smiled again, patted Eric on the shoulder, then disappeared.

Willy came out from a dark corner of the kitchen. "Master Eric, I'm so proud! A teacher's assistant; you'll be an honor to your house!"

Eric looked over to his faithful friend, then handed him the paper Dumbledore gave him. "Well, I haven't passed the tests yet." Grabbing a cloak, he gestured for Willy to follow him. "Come on, we've got a list to fill!"


	10. Chapter 10

Dorian looked across the limousine seat to Eric. "I heard that your shop was milling with professors this week. Making new desks for everyone?"

Eric let out a heavy sigh. "Testing out of my classes. Looks like I'm going to be a teaching assistant this year, at least most of the time."

Dorian's eyes lit up. "You'll be grading the tests?"

Eric gave him a twisted smirk. "Only for students that **_aren't_** Ravenclaws, and nothing for this year. Besides, I didn't pass the classes you'd need me for."

Naomi's voice drifted out from a darkened hood. "Snape didn't pass you?"

Dorian turned to her. "Snape would never admit that a student that left Slytherin House would be good for anything."

Eric chimed in. "Well, it's true that I didn't pass the test. I'll be honest, though; our class probably won't be seeing potions as complicated as the one he set before me. That and the analysis portion; students usually don't study reactive analysis until fifth year."

Dorian turned back to Eric. "Clearly he didn't want you to pass. Did you get a chance to mention it to Dumbledore?"

"He stopped by after the testing. He said that Snape's explanation was that if I was going to forego his class, I'd have to prove myself exceptionally above my peers. That's why the test was for a student finishing two years above the session I'm supposed to be entering. Still, he has requested my services as an assistant. I suppose I should be honored."

Naomi's voice rose again. "So, what classes will you be taking?"

"Well, I've got independent projects in most of my other classes, I'm still taking potions, and Professor Trelawney insists that there's value in my attending in the company of other students, so there you have it. Other than that, it's advanced study and assisting the professors."

Dorian was green with envy. "I wish I had that kind of opportunity."

Naomi's voice chimed again. "Personally, I wouldn't want to lose quiet time."

Arriving at the station, they found that Mr. Wainwright had already arranged for porters, making quick work of moving their property from the van following the limo to carts. While the porters were perhaps a little too curious about the contents of all the wooden chests, not to mention the caged animals, a sizable gratuity for each of them put a quick end to any misgivings.

As they made their way to Platform 9-3/4, Eric and his friends found themselves in the middle of a mass of students heading for the train. Eric found this to be the most fun part about the whole trip – getting to the platform. Dorian, however, was puzzled. "They don't see us. Why doesn't anyone notice students disappearing into a solid wall?"

Eric turned to him. "It's a discretex charm. There's two of them anchored in the bases of the arch. Lots of wizards try not to stress it, which is a good thing, but the fact is that people passing by on either platform really don't plan on seeing people disappearing from sight. The charm enhances their perceptions of an ordinary world. Anyone on platforms nine or ten would have to be deliberately looking for people vanishing or seriously paying attention in order to find the path to the Hogwarts Express. Either that, or a wizard would have to make a serious show of leaving, which would mean instant trouble with the Ministry."

Naomi looked over to Eric with an expression that almost suggested a smirk. "Is that why nobody's looking at you?"

Eric grinned in reply, revealing a copper torc around his neck, it's ends scribed with sigils. "That, and the fact that my hair is tucked under my cloak."

Passing onto the platform was easy enough, though Eric did notice that there were a few more cloaked figures around than usual. Obviously, these were Ministry agents, watching over the boarding which was a rather noteworthy event on the wizard's calendar. The passage onto the platform went as smoothly as ever, though, and soon they were aboard the express, having claimed their usual booth. Naomi was a bit delayed by her parents, who said their goodbyes with a sentimentality that was only slightly out of the ordinary, given their otherwise extremely proper nature.

It wasn't long before they were joined by Luna Lovegood, their dear ( if somewhat insane ) fellow Ravenclaw. Dressed in her usual flurry of color and patterns, with baubles and dangly things clipped almost everywhere imaginable, she was a splash of insane color to an otherwise fairly reserved group. As the train started off, the circle of friends each sank into their own activities. Luna began reading her father's publication, taking special care to look for the hidden messages in the pictures. After a few minutes, Dorian began borrowing pages from Luna. Eric began writing margin notes in his textbooks, except for the Monstrous Book, which clearly wasn't interested in co-operating. As for Naomi, she settled into meditation, intending to pass through the trip quickly and quietly.

The trip to Hogwarts passed in a manner that was beginning to become familiar to Eric. Urban settings became more and more rural, then downright wild as the train wound it's way north. As each of his companions set about passing the time, Eric began jotting down ideas – things to investigate in Hogsmeade. Third year students were allowed periodic trips to the town, and Eric already had received notice from Hagrid that his guardian was willing to let him go with the other students ( provided that he behaved himself and didn't get into any trouble ). The trail of his mother stopped at Hogsmeade, which is where he had to start.

As the sky dimmed down, the train suddenly pulled down to a stop prior to the Hogsmeade station. As the students began to look about in confusion, the lights went out, and the train was doused in darkness. Luna was the first voice to be heard. "It's finally happened. We've fallen through the Hogsmeade Hole!"

"You know, Luna, life would be far simpler if you didn't believe things just because your father printed them." Naomi's dry attitude was strangely heartwarming.

"That's typical. My father devotes his life to warning the world of things that are happening right in our midst, and all you can do is scoff!"

The banter of the group was cut off when the door to the compartment slid open. No light was present, but a sinister breathing could be heard. Eric strained to see, but was caught up suddenly in a wave of cold, unlike anything he ever experienced. He tried to look about, but the darkness had somehow grown thicker, almost as though he was immersed in tar. He could no longer hear his friends, or even be sure that they were anywhere around him. His heart began to race as he strained to see or hear anything but found himself sinking further and further into the blackness.

Then there was a light. It was a burning crimson, but it was bright, warm, and with it he could hear a voice bearing power, both alien in nature yet strangely familiar. It was chanting, not exactly calling to him, but nevertheless providing a beacon out of the darkness. _"Amoranu Kaiserix – nefiran vanlair impotium Regina – invaneqran expurgis!"_

Even as Eric's senses returned to him, he began to doubt them. The doorway framed a black, hooded figure, it's very presence seeking to suck the light and warmth from the room. Standing in direct opposition to it was Naomi, her body radiating the crimson glow he had sensed. As she stood, she appeared far more imposing than ever, as if she had somehow managed to grow two feet. The figure in the doorway shrank from her, as if fearing some dread reprisal.

"_There is nothing for you here. Begone!"_ Her voice carried with it the all-surrounding presence of thunder, and whatever had entered the room quickly shrank from it. She then turned to her friends, and Eric could see why the creature was afraid. In addition to her imposing stature, her eyes glowed a yellowish orange, like coals the heart of a bonfire. However, once she was sure that the hooded creature was gone, the crimson glow vanished and she returned to her former self. Leaning over to Eric, she set her hand on his forehead. "Are you alright?"

Luna was the first of the group to act. _"Illuminus dochs."_ A small marble of light rose from her wand, casting a greenish-blue light through the compartment. Other than the fact that the train was still dark, everything appeared to be as it should be, at least within the compartment they were in.

Dorian, though, was the first to speak among the group of them. "Ok, they were creepy. You, however, were downright scary."

Combing stray hairs out of Eric's face, Naomi didn't bother to look up. "That was the idea. It's called the _Kaiserix_, and it's good for these kind of situations. It's an expression of will, giving those watching an idea of how much potential a person would have if all they needed was the will to wield it. What it doesn't reveal, however, is how much of that power the caster currently has. They could have all they need, or very little. It's up to the watcher to call the caster's bluff."

Eric looked up at Naomi. "And if the spellcaster isn't bluffing?"

"The _Kaiserix_ is also a forum – one which can cause considerable damage." Naomi reached for Eric's hand. "You're still shaking."

He was, indeed, still shaking. His head was still caught up in the cold. The darkness, the absolute isolation was still clinging furiously to his heart. He could see that everyone was about, but there was something, a wall of some kind that was cutting him off from everyone around him.

"Is everyone all right?" A shabby looking fellow had peered into the compartment.

Looking up at him, Naomi suddenly lunged. As the man staggered back, she snatched a large wad of foil from his hands. Tearing it open, she began breaking it apart. She pushed a block of something sweet into Eric's mouth, then handed pieces to everyone. "Eat it. You'll feel better."

The man appeared rather put off. "While I appreciate your wish to help your friends, I was hoping to pass that out to everyone who needed it."

Naomi suddenly stopped. In the blue-green light it was hard to tell, but Eric was fairly sure she was blushing. "I'm very sorry, sir."

The man looked the group of them over. The chocolate she stuffed in Eric's mouth was having it's effect, and the others seemed to be improving quickly. "Well, I can overlook it this time. It's obvious that you all needed the aid, and it's good to see people who care about their friends so much. In the future, however, I would appreciate it if I could have the chance to offer assistance myself."

As the man departed, Naomi turned back to Eric. "Are you feeling any better? Maybe you should have some more."

Eric declined. "I'm better, really." He paused for a second. "Um, why weren't you affected by those things like we were?"

Naomi ducked back. "I was meditating. Whatever those things were, they seem to have a power that affects emotions. While I meditate, I try to silence all my feelings. No emotions means no effect. That's why I was able to act so quickly."

Dorian piped up. "Not to mention powerfully."

The lights returned to the train, and as far as anyone could tell, the halls were clear from those things. A blow from the whistle, a sudden jerk, and the train was moving again. It wouldn't be long before they were at Hogwarts, and all of this would simply be an extremely unpleasant memory.


	11. Chapter 11

As the Thestrals drew the coaches lazily up the road to the school, Eric continued in his efforts to forget his encounter with the dementors. He couldn't figure out why he was so badly affected. Fine: Naomi is the meditative sort, and so emotional attacks really didn't affect her; but why weren't Luna or Dorian in as much hurt as he was?

Eric snapped his head about. Thinking about it only brought back the memories of the dementors. Looking across the coach, he noticed Naomi's hood aiming towards him. Whether Naomi was looking at him or not was anyone's guess, as her face was completely enshrouded in darkness. While this was unnerving, Eric was reminded of something he wanted to ask. "Naomi? I was wondering about your father. What has he been doing at the Leaky Cauldron that had Malfoy so upset?"

As the coach passed a lantern, the lower half of Naomi's face came into view, only adding to her mysterious ( and by now downright chilling ) demeanor. Her answers, however, came directly and simply. "My father is an investor, and his resources are considerable. The plain fact is that he doesn't have to work for a living, which leaves him a considerable amount of free time. Since I've joined the magical society, he's decided to work with wizards and witches who are open to exchanging ideas, and who are willing to accept muggle help when they need it."

Eric rubbed his head for a second. "I don't understand."

"What happens to a wizard lost in the middle of London? Haven't you ever wondered? Well, if he's lucky, he'll just get ignored or harassed. If he's unlucky, he'll run foul of some law or ordinance he doesn't understand. Well, my father has discretely put himself in a position to help a wizard in need. He also is making himself available as a resource to wizards who wish to learn more about muggles."

Dorian was suddenly interested. "What does he get out of it?"

Naomi settled back into the coach's plush seat. "Nothing. It's a hobby for him."

The coaches pulled to a stop before the massive doors of Hogwarts' main entrance. Carriages were unloading students in sets of ten, and instructors were waving and encouraging everyone into the building as quickly as possible. The wagons containing their luggage moved onward to the stairwell where the house-elves of Hogwarts would begin to unload them.

Eric noted that students entering Hogwarts were being particularly scrutinized by Madame Pomfrey. Rumors abounded regarding who put up with the dementors and who didn't. The Slytherins were all full of stories of how Harry Potter fainted. Eric couldn't help but feel sorry for Harry; when a person is famous, it's important that they never show weakness. Since Slytherins tended towards a huge superiority complex above the rest, they never forgave Harry for ending up in Gryffindor. Not that they were particularly fond of him, either. His first months actually being a student at Hogwarts were noteworthy for him being the most hated student in Slytherin house, until a caring gesture at the first Quidditch match of the year put an end to his time there. A decisive transfer to Ravenclaw had proven most beneficial.

As all the upper-class students settled in, Eric looked about for familiar faces. The Hufflepuffs were two tables down, so he couldn't see much from where he was sitting. The Gryffindors had their usual lot, including Percy Weasley, Penelope Clearwater's beau. Fred and George waved a subtle hello; he knew he'd have to catch up with those two this year. He had managed to mostly keep out of trouble for his first two years, but admittedly, that was getting boring. Ron had made it to the table, as did his sister Ginny, but Eric couldn't see Harry or Hermoine, that strange girl who they were always with.

At the Slytherin table sat his former housemates. The less Eric thought about those times, the better. Yet, there is always the curiosity of looking back, one which was quickly dispelled by evil looks from Malfoy and his cronies. They were worse than the dementors, always looking for reasons to hate people. Eric couldn't understand them, or anyone like them. Even if you were one to think that you were better than others in one way or another, that's no reason to dislike someone else.

Eric settled in to watch the sorting with everyone else. Naomi was also intently staring at each new student. He noticed that she had a tendency to nod whenever a Ravenclaw was selected, as if her approval was necessary. He also noticed that the hat seemed to try to divide the classes evenly. While this made sense, it also told him something that never occurred to him before. If students had to be balanced among the four houses, then it's likely that people ended up in houses that they weren't necessarily meant for.

If people truly were left to their own, you might well have a year that was primarily Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, or even Slytherin. Since each class was split roughly evenly, Eric thought that it defied the rules of chaos, which would suggest that a grossly uneven split would have to happen periodically. This answered a question he held for some time – why people felt the need to send congratulatory letters to their children for entering this house or that. If the hat sorted solely by talent, people would end up where they belonged – period. Because of the need for an even sorting, just because they were best suited to one house or another didn't assure them that they would end up in the right place.

Eric noticed something else, too. There was a Slytherin girl staring at him. Eric was used to people staring at him – a boy with a braid down to his waist tends to get that. Usually, however, people become disinterested after a minute or two. This girl, however, seemed to keep looking until Eric turned to her, at which point she turned away. As this cycle repeated itself, Eric began to feel her watching him, like a buzzing in the back of his mind.

It took him several minutes to remember her. Her name was Lenora Surrey. She entered Slytherin house the same time he did, but they never talked. This was hardly unusual at the time, as Eric had a dreadful time associating with any of the Slytherins, a situation which came to a head at his first Quidditch match when he assisted a Gryffindor chaser, only to be beaten and berated by the Slytherin team. It was shortly after that when he entered Ravenclaw and a much more welcoming community.

Eric had to end his musings, for Dumbledore was standing to make his start of year announcements. There was one about the dementors, who were taking residence around the Hogwarts grounds. The second welcomed Professor Lupin as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Eric had heard the name before, for Remus Lupin was fairly well published in the field. His work regarding basic defenses against lesser dark creatures was some of the best on the subject. True, he lacked the poetic prose and dramatic style of their previous instructor, but that was a fair tradeoff for someone who could present the subject in an understandable and practical manner.

The last announcement was that Rubeus Hagrid was going to begin as the Care of Magical Creatures instructor. This brought a wave of confusion through the room, as several of the students were aware that Hagrid didn't have complete formal instruction. Further, his penchant for dangerous pets was legendary. Eric chose to take it all in stride. Whatever he decided to present, Hagrid would certainly be able to keep matters under control. That, realistically, was the most important thing.


	12. Chapter 12

Eric woke up to the firm teasing of Midget of Widget. It took him a few minutes to remember why his two burrow owls were diligently tormenting him. He had loaned them to Hagrid to wake him up for his morning duties. Sneaking out of the Ravenclaw dorms, he was met by Willy, who had a hearty breakfast of eggs, sausages, and boiled grutta waiting for him.

After he finished, cleaned up and dressed, Willy called quietly to him. "Master Eric, these have to be the most confusing items sir has ever asked Willy to prepare. Why did you ask for these items?"

Eric looked out to the garments Willy was holding, then replied with a smirk. "Because I have a sneaking hunch I'll be needing them."

Eric suited up and headed out to Hagrid's hut, pulling and twisting against the suit Willy had fashioned for him. It would take several days of work to get the joints to break in, but given the task at hand, a suit of armor seemed to be in order. Not having the ability to fashion metal plates or effectively disguise them, he was left with thick leather.

"Dere yeh are, boy! Didn' want you to miss this!" Hagrid was beaming as he started to toss huge slabs of meat about the field. "That's it, boy, we've got to feed the buggers, after all."

As Eric began to follow Hagrid's lead, he began to see what he was all excited about. Circling overhead were a dozen winged figures, shadowed in the pre-dawn haze. As they came downwards, Eric began to make out what they were: hippogriffs.

Each creature had it's own distinct appearance, though most gave away their European heritage through their dark brownish coloring. Mediterranean hippogriffs had much lighter coats and plumes. Eric knew that he'd have to be careful around this group. They were known for being easily startled or offended, and although appearing ungainly, they were in fact efficient predators capable of lightning fast reactions.

Hagrid shuffled over with towels and a bucket of water to where Eric stood waiting. "I see you dressed for work; good lad. Best to clean up, though. You wouldn't want them smelling blood on yeh – they'd think there'd be more to eat." Taking the hint, Eric quickly mopped off his hands and arms, making a point to soak the blood off his clothes. "Now, the first thing yeh have to remember is to be polite. Hippogriffs are proud beasties, an' they don' take well to rudeness. So, walk about an' introduce yerself, an' it's proper to bow."

Eric paused for a second, deciding whether or not he had lost his mind. On the one hand, he had been looking forward to becoming a teacher's aid, especially Hagrid's, for the better part of the last two weeks. On the other, his guardian was asking him to step into a field of clawed, beaked monsters to exchange courtesies. He could have fled, but that would be admitting that he wasn't up to the challenge. Mustering all the courage he had, he stepped boldly into the field dead in the midst of them. He then drew him through the most formal gesture he could, as if he was greeting the Queen.

The response astonished even Hagrid, as eight of the hippogriffs paused from their eating to turn to him, bowing in reply. Spotting the other four in a corner group, Eric moved to face them directly, then proceeded to kneel before them. Although previously aloof, this proved satisfactory, as the four then granted him a reasonable courtesy.

Hagrid's eyes welled with tears of pride. "Beautiful! I'm so proud of yeh, boy! I'd never had thought a first time handler could do so well." It was worth the risk to hear the joy in Hagrid's voice as he made his way around the field, giving attention to each one in turn while giving way when one or the other wished to move about. After a while, walking about in the middle of the flock seemed more than natural.

Hagrid worked his way over to Eric. "Now, all yeh have to do is to keep the others occupied while I harness each one to get them into the stables. Ye're doin' great. By the way, how did yeh know how to handle the ones in the corner?"

Eric turned back to them, puzzled for a moment. "I don't know; it just seemed the thing to do at the time."

"Well, it was indeed." Hagrid beamed about the flock. "How do you think my first class will go?"

Eric looked about at the flock as they lazily strutted up and down the field. His heart raced as one or the other reared up to shake out it's wings. It was the most majestic sight he had ever seen. "They're going to be awestruck, Hagrid. It'll be amazing!"

It took the better part of three hours to get the flock settled. They didn't take well to harnessing, though it was reassuring that the end of the shift found Eric removing his suit without a scratch on it. He chided himself for overreacting; Hagrid really knew what he was doing. For all their potential, the hippogriffs were quite peaceful and well behaved. As long as nobody did anything blindingly stupid, the afternoon class was sure to proceed without a hitch, and have the desired effect of impressing everyone with something far better than Professor Kettleburn's snapping snails.

He barely had time to get a late morning snack down before heading for Professor Trelawney's room. Unlike most of the other classrooms, the Divinations room had no shortcuts and no back entrances. It was the highest room of the tallest tower, and no path taken was any easier than another. As a result, by the time he had reached the room, he was exhausted, and the room's darkened mood made it dreadfully hard to stay awake.

Eric always sought to have the utmost respect for all the Hogwarts instructors. Sybill Trelawney, however, had traditionally had a problem defending her integrity. Her predictions tended to follow easy paths, and were just vague enough to be interpreted a number of ways. Eric knew that a number of her students had bluffed their way to exceptional grades through a simple charting of what she presented.

Trying desperately to stay awake, Eric found himself gazing into the various crystals and baubles that littered the room. There was no doubt that the layout and surroundings were moderately hypnotic, which would explain the professor's tendency towards being, well, slightly goofy. It was, therefore, only a matter of time before he lost his grip on consciousness and began dreaming of Hogsmeade and the fall trip. He saw himself going through the village, stopping at one place or the next, but moving past the main street into the back alleys, searching for one special place, a place where he could find answers.

The dismissal of class woke him out of his stupor. Looking about, he was grateful to see that Dorian was the only person that noticed his nodding off, and his friend had covered for him successfully. As he left, however, the professor stopped him. "So, how did you like your first glimpses into the unknown?"

Not wishing to give himself away, he chose the safe road. "To be honest, professor, if today was any indication, I doubt I have much insight to offer."

"That is the case with most. I would, however, appreciate it if you could stop by this evening. Something came up when I tested you that I wish to pursue, if that's all right?" Staring at him through her spectacles, he was sure she caught him napping.

"Um, sure, would that be right after dinner?"

"You will face several complications this afternoon. Eight o'clock will be suitable."

Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class was far more engaging. Although Eric wasn't required to pay attention, he found himself hanging on the professor's every word as she began to explain the principles that govern the transformations of Animagi. Once he had the basics down, he began to work on more complicated patterns, examining the options until the path became clear. As the class finished, he began to lay out several sheets that, in his mind, suggested the proper course of actions.

"Well, Mister Sable, I see that I've managed to secure your interest at last." Although her tone seemed brisk, there was an underlying amusement to it that suggested that capturing his attention was a personal goal of hers, and that success suited her mood well. "So, what have your contemplations developed this time?"

Eric suddenly felt the need to back away. The last time he presented a work in progress to her, his paradigm of the Philosopher's Stone. Professor McGonagall had chosen to confiscate it, and in the end it was destroyed. While he agreed that it was for the best, Eric never forgot how much work he lost in a single stroke.

However, the professor also gave him permission to work on advanced projects, and there was no way that he was going to improve if he didn't share his discoveries. "Well, here's the basic transformations, and here's the link that makes it a permanent enchantment." Eric went on for several minutes before finally reaching the finish of his work.

"Well, I can see that we've been working on a proper assumption. Independent study suits you." She then moved next to Eric and startled him by lightly laying her hand on his shoulder. "I should warn you: becoming an Animagus should not be taken lightly. On the one hand it can be rewarding, entertaining and enjoyable. On the other, many have been known to abuse it, and having the ability means registering with the Ministry – which leaves your privacy in question for the rest of your life. Furthermore, although an Animagus can transform into the animal of their choice, they must select one form. Once that form is selected, it can never be changed. That is why students are forbidden to pursue this line of magic until their sixth year."

As the professor turned back to her desk, Eric began to pack his papers, then a question hit him. "Has anyone ever taken the form of a magical creature?"

McGonagall turned about slowly. "There have been many who have tried. None have succeeded, and the level of failure ranges from complete failure to spontaneous combustion. Most often, the caster simply doesn't achieve the results they were looking for, and are stuck with an optional form they despise so much, they never use it. Those, however, are the lucky ones."

Eric finished gathering his papers in silence. He suddenly found himself with something new to think about.


	13. Chapter 13

Eric left off half of his lunch hour to take a nap. While it wasn't as much sleep as he needed, it was enough once added to a reasonable lunch that was somewhat hastily eaten. Looking about, he could see that a number of his fellow classmates appeared somewhat apprehensive, as if they weren't sure of what they were in for. He smiled to himself, knowing what a treat Hagrid had prepared.

"Well, boy, are yeh ready to knock some socks off?" Hagrid had strolled through the hall, looking proud and excited. Eric was ready, as he was currently reading up on the subject in the Monstrous Book. It took the better part of half an hour to figure out how to get the book to behave, but the information provided was worth the trouble. The author may have had a seriously sick sense of humor, but at least he knew his subject.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I wonder if I could borrow our new teacher's assistant for the afternoon?" Professor Lupin had walked up to their discussion, and seemed intent on diverting Eric's schedule. "I have to examine a boggart and I would appreciate some help."

Eric certainly didn't want to leave his adoptive father without help, but Hagrid seemed happy enough to offer his assistance. "Well a'course yeh can. I've got everythin' I need, and I wouldn' want the students thinkin' I don' know how teh handle today's subjects."

Eric looked up uncertainly. "Are you sure? I mean, there are a dozen of them."

"Nah – they won't be any trouble at all. You go on an' help Perfesser Lupin now; I'll be fine."

Eric quickly finished his lunch and followed Professor Lupin. Hagrid was right: the hippogriffs all were well behaved. Suddenly, a thought came to him. "Professor, could we stop by the greenhouse for a minute? I need a few things."

Though confused, the professor agreed. Stopping by and being careful not to interrupt Intermediate Herbology, Eric gathered together a pot, a trowel, and a moderate amount of soil. Stepping out to the courtyard, he trimmed a branch of ivy and set it into the pot. _"Folia intermina."_ The plant settled and seemed to grow slightly. Adding a small amount of water to moisten the soil, he returned to the Professor. "Now we're ready."

Lupin looked confused for a moment, then his eyes seemed to light up with a realization. "Well, Mister Sable, this should prove very enlightening." He turned and lead Eric back through the main building to the staffroom. A small group had gathered in the middle of the room; Filtch was grumbling to Professors Flitwick and McGonagall while Professor Snape was towards the back, looking extremely dour. Professor Dumbledore broke off from the rest of the group and turned to the newcomers. "Ah, Professor Lupin. I understand that you have a request?"

"Yes, sir. If my suspicions are correct, there is a boggart in this wardrobe – one which would be very useful to my third-year Defense Against the Dark Arts class. If I can confirm that it's here, I would like to contain it until tomorrow, at which point my class will dispense with it."

Dumbledore nodded, then turned to Eric. "Would you please explain why our current unconventional student is a part of this, when he's scheduled to be helping Hagrid with his class?"

Lupin began to prepare himself to face the Boggart. "An opportunity to examine a student's abilities should not be overlooked, especially in Eric's case. Are you ready" As Eric nodded, he stiffened his arm at the door. "Now, I only want you to wait long enough for me to prepare, then drive the boggart to me. Once I disable it, drive it back into the wardrobe."

Lupin opened the wardrobe. A figure swooped out of the darkness: tall, hooded, and dressed in black. It's hood drew back to show a faceless head, slick and oily. Eric shouted out _"Riddikulus!"_, and it suddenly was covered in pansies and cattails.

Swerving towards Lupin, it transformed again into a glowing orb. _"Riddikulus"_; the orb was transformed into a small glowing hedgehog. "Quickly now, secure it before it transforms again."

Positioning the pot between himself and the boggart, Eric began to swirl his wand. "_Ceangailin!_" The boggart found itself emeshed in tendrils as the potted ivy spread about it. Eric slashed his wand upward: _"Pairilis!"_ As the ivy completed it's encirclement, the boggart froze in place. He twirled the wand in slow circles, ending the motion with the tip pointing at the dark space in the wardrobe: _"Bpriosun!"_ An invisible force pulled the pot and the immobilized bogart into the wardrobe, at which point Lupin shut the wardrobe.

Dumbledore stepped forward. "A most impressive display. I would, however, like to know how it is that you came by the spells you used."

Eric looked about with some foreboding. "Damhandorcha's _Applications of Power_; it's a fairly complete essay of the more direct uses for magical abilities. His opinions of the strengths of the Gaelic and Celtic schools of magic versus the more traditional Latin schools bear out under initial examination. Of course, that may also simply be a matter of focused will on the part of the wizards in question."

Professor Flitwick was the first to step forward. "True, those schools do hold a great deal of power. They are, however, highly unstable, and generally not given to orderly use."

Eric turned to the head of his house. "That is the general perception. In fact, Latin schools are no more or less stable than other cultural traditions. It is true that it is more orderly and understood, but only because it's been studied and established more thoroughly than the rest, with the possible exception of the Chinese."

Professor McGonagall was the next to turn to him. "That may be, but power does have it's consequences. You are aware that Damhandorcha was a Death Eater; considered to be one of ... _his_ most loyal followers?"

"The fact that he had fallen into the Dark Arts doesn't invalidate his work." Eric looked about nervously. He began to believe that he wasn't asked to come in order to wrangle a boggart. Either that, or the first reason had since been eclipsed by a more focused purpose.

The room was silent for several minutes before Dumbledore finally spoke. "Mister Sable, thank you for your efforts. You are dismissed."

As he left the staffroom, Eric pondered his missteps. He was aware that the Gaelic schools held a bad reputation due to the people who pursued them. He also was sure that they held no more or less of a dark nature than any of the other historical sources. It was just that spells drawn from those sources tended to hold more power, and thus were more interesting to those seeking power.

Eric might well have pondered this problem into the afternoon if a sudden chill hadn't run up his spine. There was no one about, not even the ghosts he was expecting, but he found himself drawn to a reflection. It was a window pane that was reflecting when it shouldn't have, showing a scene that it shouldn't have. He saw the courtyard, leading out into an open field by Hagrid's hut, passing outward towards the Forbidden Forest where a number of students were gathered. Hagrid was driving out the hippogriffs to the students, introducing them.

While the scene seemed quite normal, and Hagrid looked like he was doing well for his first class, an overriding chill continued to plague him, giving him the most dreaded thought – _something was going to happen!_

Wasting no time, Eric bolted off towards the field. He tried not to think about getting there, for what was he going to say? He saw the class, and had a dread feeling that something was going wrong? How would Hagrid take it when his loyal assistant was doubting his abilities?

Taking no time to wait, he found himself doubling into Dorian. "Hey – where's the dragon?"

"Come on!" Eric wasted no time to explain, but his friend dutifully gathered himself together and ran after him.

Unfortunately, when they arrived Eric saw that he was too late. Hagrid had Draco Malfoy bundled up in his arms, screaming, while he was running off. He could see that Draco was bleeding, though he wasn't sure how badly. The rest of the Magical Creatures class was following, while the hippogriffs were still wandering in the field.

Eric turned to Dorian. "I have to round up the hippogriffs. Mix with the class and find out what happened."

"Me? Why should I have to grill everyone?"

Eric gazed at him sarcastically. "Are you up for switching places?"

Looking past Eric, Dorian suddenly seemed to go weak. "Um, while it looks like a lot of fun, I wouldn't want to deprive you. I'll let you know what I find out."

While Eric didn't envy the job Dorian had to do, he found himself faced with a very unpleasant prospect. Deciding on a suitable course of action, he stopped by Hagrid's hut, coming out in one of his leather vests. While it was true that the vest felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, it was protection. Next, he wrote down a couple of quick notes, then blew on a whistle to summon his owls. Midget and Widget dutifully arrived within seconds.

"Ok boys, now this is dangerous. If I'm attacked, Midget, you take this note to Madame Pomfrey. Widget, you take this note to Willy. Do you both understand?" Enthusiastic hoots from each of them gave Eric a reason to pray they didn't act out of turn. Giving them the notes, he then entered the paddock.

Taking a moment to recite to himself everything Hagrid told him that morning, he walked up to the closest of the beasts. "Lord Hippogriff, it is necessary that I escort you to the pens. I would be honored if you would accompany me." While he had no idea whether or not the creature understood him, the manner worked, and the hippogriff followed quite amiably as he led it back to the stables.


	14. Chapter 14

Willy cooked the evening stew while Eric did his best to console Hagrid. "I jes' wanted to have a good firs' class. They didn' like the books, then Malfoy got all clawed up. It's all my fault!"

As Willy set a heavy, laden bowl in front of him, Eric tried to calm his guardian down. "You had no way of knowing. I mean, with five minutes of your instruction, I was able to pen all twelve of them all by myself. Look at me – not a scratch!"

"But Malfoy – his father'll have it in fer me fer sure. Dumbledore'll be stopping by to talk with me, but I know there'll be an hearin' this week."

Eric put himself right in front of Hagrid's face, to assure himself that his guardian could hear him. "I had Dorian talk with the class. You've got half a dozen witnesses that'll swear that you gave the class proper instruction, and Malfoy didn't pay attention. I'll call Mrs. Peal this evening and see if we can't work with that."

Stepping away from the table, he drew on a coat, picked up an offered bowl of stew and a fork, and headed for the door. "Now, I have to see Professor Trelawney this evening for some reason. Willy's going to take care of you, so please just relax. We'll have this all sorted out before the week is over: you'll see." Digging into the stew ( which was, in fact, yet another of Willy's cullinary triumphs ) he headed back to the upper tower and the Divination room.

He was all but finished eating by the time he finally got to the upper room. Entering in, he found himself alone in the draped room, the lighting dimly provided by several lanterned candles. However, as he began to settle himself, he felt a buzzing – the same that plagued him the first night he returned. As he sat down, he decided to concentrate on it, to feel it. The source was close, behind him and to the left. Moving slowly, as if to get more comfortable, he turned about to face the shrouded darkness behind him.

"So, it's true! You can sense me!" Professor Trelawney came out from behind the shrouds. "I've waited so long for a student with a Gift, I almost despaired of finding one!" She gathered Eric up in a hug as she almost stumbled over her dress. "Dear boy, you are the answer to all my hopes for a long, long time!"

"Um, Professor? I think you have me mixed up with someone else. I don't have premonitions."

Untangling him from her sleeves, she sat down and poured tea. "No no, dear child, you don't possess any precognitive abilities." Handing him a pink teacup, she smiled craftily to him. "Confidentially, neither do I."

Eric blinked twice before answering. "You don't? I thought that, well,..."

"Come now, you thought what everyone else thought here. That I was a complete loony." Her beaming smile issued forth understanding and forgiveness. "I know what everyone says about me. I don't blame them. You see, I come from a family of Seers, but I don't have that gift for myself. You can't imagine how embarrassing it is. To be honest, I don't know why Dumbledore hired me, at least at first."

She sipped her tea before continuing. "However, I am a powerful clairvoyant. While I can't see into the future, I can see current events or sense imminent happenings. That's how I knew that Neville, that dear boy, was such a klutz. If I interrupted him, he would be sure to break one of my teacups."

"So why are you kept on as a divination teacher?"

"Because I know how to encourage Seers properly. It's less important whether or not I can see into the future as much as I know how to develop those who can, or those with other similar abilities."

"Why don't you just admit that you're not precognitive?"

"Many students don't understand the concept of being trained by someone who can't do something themselves. So, I pretend to be precognitive in order to find those with a true Gift, then maintain their confidence in order to develop them properly. I've had about a dozen or so successes."

Eric was unconvinced. "If that's the case, how can I be sure you're clairvoyant?"

"After you left the staffroom, you saw a vision of Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class. While you had it, a sense of dread came over you." She beamed a great smile to him. "While you were watching Hagrid, I was watching you. It's hard to say whether you had a true Sense of the Foreboding or if you detected me, instead. That's what we're going to find out."

The professor's honesty was rather comforting. However, he was still curious. "So, why all the dark predictions?"

"Simple: when bad things happen, they say I saw it coming. When they don't, people are too relieved to make a fuss. It's all very sensible. Now: as far as you're concerned, we have a clairvoyant talent to nurture. Are you ready to begin?"

Eric wasn't sure he believed her, but she was too enthusiastic to turn down. "How do we start?"

By ten o'clock, Eric was exhausted. Professor Trelawney had managed to try every divination method imaginable in order to isolate his talent. They found that he had two clairvoyant abilities. The first was an Aegis – an ability to sense when someone or something had taken a direct and immediate interest in him. The second was a Sentinel – an ability to sense immediate danger or a dire happening that affected someone close to him. These primary aspects manifested themselves in the sensations and visions that he was experiencing. With the professor's help, it could someday be possible to manipulate these aspects into usable talents which could be engaged proactively, rather than reactively.

With a head full of questions and confusion, Eric stumbled into Ravenclaw Hall hoping to drop off into bed, when he remembered Hagrid's predicament. Moving towards the fireplace, he drew his wand and traced out several curves. Concentrating on Mrs. Peal, he chanted: _"Inflamus Communicatix."_

As he looked about, the fireplace was still before him, but it was as if he was also in the middle of a fireplace, watching the flames curl up around him. Looking outward, he could see a quaint kitchen, currently being cleared of clutter by a young man and woman. Although the woman was briefly startled to look downward and find a head in the fireplace, she smiled as she called to her companion. "David, I believe the house has a caller."

David looked downward, smiling at Eric. Not knowing what else to do, he smiled back. "Sorry to interrupt your evening, but I was hoping to contact a Mrs. Peal."

David nodded, turned to an archway leading out of the kitchen and called. "Mum! There's a head under the kettle that wants to talk to you!"

"David, I really had hoped that over the years your manners would improve." Mrs. Peal emerged from the archway, and flashed a gentle smile down to her hearth. "Well, it's about time you called. I've been expecting you all afternoon."

As David and the unidentified lady made their way out of the kitchen, Mrs. Peal drew up a small stool. Eric looked up at her, completely confused. "You've been expecting me?"

"Dumbledore called already. I know all about Hagrid's little incident and the people involved. There's an inquiry coming up in a couple of days – don't panic, such things are normal in these situations – but Albus seemed to think that it would be best if Hagrid obtained someone to help in his defense. Honestly, I'm inclined to agree."

"So you're coming here?" As much as Hogwarts was Eric's home for as long as he could remember, he was missing his landlady an awful lot. She was the closest thing he remembered having to a mother, and her kindness to him was an absence he felt deeply.

"I'm afraid not. There's a number of things I have to tend to here. Besides, I'm not directly involved with Hogwarts in any particular way. That's why you're going to prepare Hagrid's rebuttal instead."

Eric shook his head for a moment. "Excuse me, did you say that ..."

"Yes, Eric, you are going to defend Hagrid. The matter is fairly straightforward if you approach it sensibly. Now, get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, have Willy prepare you a hearth somewhere unobtrusive where we can speak at length. Have the facts of the matter prepared so that we can take as little time as necessary. We'll be spending the morning going over this matter and offering a proper response. Rest up, for this is going to be exhausting."


	15. Chapter 15

As Eric sat outside the staffroom waiting, he mused on the fact that Mrs. Peal was as good as her word. They picked over every fact and detail until Eric could swear that he was there himself. He knew that he'd be nervous, but he had to bear up. Hagrid's fate depended on him.

Professor McGonagall popped her head out through the door. "Mister Sable, we're ready for you."

The staffroom was arranged in an arch, with Hagrid sitting squarely in the center. In attendance were most of the elder teachers, as well as Draco's father Lucius. A shelf had been put in where a number of burning firepans sat; a hovering head engulfed in flames floating over each one. This answered Eric's thought about how the school governors were convened so quickly.

Looking quite passive and relaxed, Professor Dumbledore called Eric forward. "You are here to answer questions and to present your opinions. Decorum is to be maintained, and civility is to be expected at all times. Is this understood."

Eric sought to calm his trembling chest. He focused on everything Mrs. Peal taught him that morning. Tightening his right hand into a fist at the base of his spine, he willed all his nervous trembling against itself there. Having settled the rest of his body, he straightened up proudly. "Thank you, sir, I understand. Please proceed."

"You are aware of the circumstances of yesterday?"

"Yes sir."

"You were, in fact, aware that Professor Hagrid was going to use hippogriffs in a presentation that morning?"

"Yes sir."

Lucius Malfoy was the next to speak. "You did not think it necessary to notify the headmaster that a class of third year students was going to be exposed to a pack of predators?"

Eric looked to Professor Dumbledore. "Do I have the governor's permission to speak at length?"

Professor Dumbledore smiled behind his beard. "By all means, take as much time as you need to express yourself clearly. However, you are to stay on the subject." Several of the governors nodded in agreement.

"Very good, sir. Firstly: the term for a collection of hippogriffs is a flock or a herd, never a pack. I state this only to show that I have familiarized myself with the behaviors of the creatures in question. To respond to the question at hand, Professor Hagrid requested my assistance in handling the herd that morning. He instructed me in the proper way to handle myself in the presence of these creatures. They posed no threat at all, and were quite manageable. To further make this point, when the professor took Mister Malfoy's son to the hospital ..."

Lucius Malfoy was quick to interrupt. "A student has been injured in the course of a class. The fact that he is my son has no bearing on this inquiry."

Eric smiled to himself. Mrs. Peal said that such an outburst would be a strike in his favor. "Just as you say, sir. To continue: as the professor's assistant, I returned the herd to the stables. Not one of them, not even the creature in question, demonstrated any sign of continuing irritability. They were all easy to handle, and responded to directions without hesitation or animosity."

Lucius, of course, was quite irritated at this. "So, how would you explain the fact that one of these beasts struck a student?"

Now came part two: preparing the trap. "The study of magic is a complicated thing. Because of the nature of what we are learning about, it is generally accepted that unfortunate circumstances can and will happen. The only way to minimize this risk is for all students to pay strict attention to the instructors so that they may be directed to proceed in a manner that is appropriate. Indeed, there are instructors that are noted for making their students face every consequence that may result through an inability to follow directions."

He looked to the side for a moment, then straightened up again. To his satisfaction, he noted that several of the governors caught his implication and had, for a moment, turned their attention to Professor Snape. The fact that such an instructor was the head of Slytherin House, the house which Draco Malfoy resided in, provided additional ammunition for his case.

Lucius was growing impatient. "That's an interesting opinion, but I don't see how it applies to this matter."

Eric could hear Mrs. Peal's words in his head: part three – spring the trap. "Several witnesses have indicated that Draco Malfoy was not paying attention while Professor Hagrid was explaining the proper way to approach and address these creatures. While this testimony may be disputed based on house rivalry, other facts cannot. First; I had received the professor's instructions and was capable of managing an entire herd on my own, and I too am merely a third-year student. Second; prior to the incident another student had already spent time with the subject creature during the class without previous introduction, and he sustained no injury nor was there any sign of trouble. Third; despite the high amount of excitement, the remainder of the herd remained calm and impassive through the whole incident. The whole herd, including the attacking creature, was easily lead back to the pens without complaint or problem.

"Taking these facts as evidence, the only reason why Draco Malfoy was injured was because he failed to follow directions that were given – directions which have repeatedly proven effective. The consequences for his actions or his inattentiveness are his own to accept, an established principle within this institution. He shall recover with no permanent injury, thanks primarily to the professor's quick actions in obtaining aid for him. All the other students are fine, and the herd has remained docile and easy to handle."

Lucius' face was a brilliant scarlet. Snape seemed quite uncomfortable in his chair, as if he was sitting on an anthill. The remainder of the instructors seemed to be masking smiles, while the governors seemed to be settling on Eric's words. Professor Dumbledore looked about. "Are there any other questions?" Lucius was clearly not interested in speaking further, and everyone else appeared satisfied with the presentation. "Thank you, Eric. You are dismissed."

Ducking his way out of the building, he made his way to an open field, broken in half by a small stream. Making his way to a deeper section of the stream, he released his braid and dunked his head completely in the water. The refreshing shock was just what he needed, though when he rose he found that his hair had soaked up about ten pounds of water. It took a rather determined swing of his head to propel the soggy mass onto his back.

Tired and worn out, he dropped face first onto the field, deciding to let the water dry off his back and seep out of his hair as much as possible before heading back into the school. Although the wind was cool, the sun was warm on his hair and back, and lying deep in the field provided cover against any breezes.

He had dozed off, losing all track of time when a hooded figure drifted to him. "Professor Flitwick sent me to find you." Naomi's deadpan monotone had yet to lose it's peculiar charm.

Eric drew himself up and began to gather his hair into it's usual tail. "What's the verdict?"

"There won't be any immediate action. The governors all agreed that there was no evidence that suggested the need for a swift response, but they want the matter investigated thoroughly. This will probably drag on for months."

Eric finished tying back his hair. "With luck I won't have to be involved further."

"Hagrid was very grateful for everything you said. He'll be waiting for a chance to pay you back."

"With my luck, that'll mean my own pet chimera. Anything else?"

"Yes. Professor Flitwick wishes you to know that he considers you a credit to Ravenclaw House, and the Headmaster wishes to see you at once."

Eric drew in a deep sigh. Although he wasn't traditionally troubled by the idea of seeing Professor Dumbledore, the incident in the staffroom had him worried. Furthermore, he didn't like the fact that coming before the headmaster was becoming a trend. Each time he did so marked some important event in his life. He was growing to dislike important events.

Turning to the school, he made his way past the main hall to the stone gargoyle that vigilantly watched the entryway to the Headmaster's office. Although he didn't know the password, he did know that he was expected, so when he arrived to find nothing happening, he stared the ugly statue straight in the eye. "Well?"

Perhaps more astonishing than watching the statue move and a staircase upward form was the fact that the inquiry actually worked. Eric knew one thing for sure – there was a lot more to Hogwarts than he was aware of. As he made his way up the stairs, he could see at the top that the headmaster was at his desk, filling out paperwork. "Ah, you're here. Come in, please!"

As Eric found a reasonably comfortable seat, Dumbledore turned to him. "First, I would like to commend you on your comments at the inquiry. While it will most likely be months before this matter is settled, I believe that your efforts will go a long way towards maintaining Hagrid's position.

"Second, I have the unfortunate task of informing you that I am suspending you from the position of teacher's assistant. I have a number of reasons for this. A rather unpleasant argument occurred in the staffroom recently as the instructors sought to divide up your time. I told them quite frankly that if they couldn't agree to share resources, then I would have no choice but to remove the source of the problem.

"Also, I am concerned that your duties will distract from your studies. You are, after all, a third-year student, and there's more to learn in classes than simply the principles of magic."

Eric was stunned. "Sir, I've barely begun. Let me show you that I can handle the challenge."

"That is not an option. You see; in the process of presenting your arguments, you embarrassed an instructor and one of the school's governors. While I agree that the points you made were critical, your approach lacked a certain amount of tact; not that it would have mattered. Regardless, the results are that Hagrid will be able to keep his position, but I will have to make a few concessions to Professor Snape and Lucius Malfoy in order to eventually secure their co-operation. For better or worse, the first of those concessions is that you are taken off the staff."

Eric was completely crestfallen. "I see."

"I suggest that you take heart in the fact that you have not lost your place at Hogwarts. Your manners were excellent, and in the end you will have saved Hagrid his job without being expelled in the process. That's quite an accomplishment."

Eric nodded and turned to leave. Dumbledore may have been right, but at the moment he honestly felt that he lost more than he gained that day.


	16. Chapter 16

Eric watched the sun sink downward. It had been a week since he was dismissed as a teacher's assistant, but the hurt hadn't abated. His studies resumed, and he had gained more time to pursue his own interests. Snape was still Snape, but while that hadn't changed, the other instructors were working with him to develop a course of independent projects that would continue his education. All of that should have made the dismissal more a blessing than a slight. Still, the fact that he lost an opportunity and a challenge that he had earned still dug at him.

He could tell that Professor Lupin's class was dismissed. Some of the students were coming out into the courtyard. In addition, several other students from various classes were beginning to mill about. The usual clutches of friends began to form, and it was inevitable that Dorian, Naomi and Eric found themselves in a corner discussing their current classes. They were soon joined by Neville Longbottom, who was thrilled to his heart that he had successfully faced down the boggart.

"It's a shame that you can't get involved with the other classes anymore. It'd be a real help if we could know what we were about to face."

Eric smiled. "Thanks, but it sounds like you don't need any help. You're finally getting the hang of things."

It was Neville's turn to be embarrassed. "Well, about some things, anyway. So, if you're not helping out the teachers, what are you doing?"

"Taking much the same classes, just working on things at my own pace. Not so many tests, but a lot more essays."

Dorian gave Eric a droll look. "Which means, you're studying things we can only hope to get into. I mean, what do you study in the topic of Dark Arts?"

"Ok, for one thing, it's **_Defense _**against the Dark Arts. It's good to remember not to drop that first part. To answer your question, I'm learning about guards and wards."

Naomi looked to the group. "One thing I don't understand. If it's 'Defense against the Dark Arts', why aren't the defenses taught dealing with the Dark Arts? I mean, first year was the most basic of dark fairies. Second year was imps and pixies. You third years are dealing with boggarts. Students don't start dealing with dark wizardry until the fourth year. Why does it take so long?"

Eric turned to her. "It's a question of building up needed skills. By dealing with dark entities, you develop the skills to face full-fledged dark wizardry. Besides, it's kind of an ethics thing. They want to build in Hogwarts students an aversion to dark entities before they begin to study dealing with dark spells."

Her expression turned sour. "It's dark magic. Won't that create an aversion enough?"

Eric sighed. "Well, that's just the thing. There is no such thing as dark magic."

Neville stared at Eric as if he just turned purple. "What did you say?"

Eric backed up several inches. "Easy, now – hear me out. There is no such thing as dark magic. There's using magic for evil purposes, and there are spells that do harmful things, but the plain truth is that magic is just magic – neither good nor evil. A spell won't make a person good or evil. Certain spells are considered 'Dark Arts' simply because they either create effects that we find distasteful or can only be used to hurt people. As a result, only dark wizards who have no qualms about it use them."

Dorian looked to Eric. "Is this what you're studying?"

"No. I'm studying how to defend an item or location against magical influences, like the foundation spells to Hogwarts that keeps magic either in or out."

Naomi turned to him. "Explain one."

Eric began to show them a simple circle. This was a defense that would keep magic from crossing a border. It was, in fact, a fairly intricate spell that took several minutes to describe in any detail. Further, as Eric explained more of the details, students began to gather around to hear what they could. Most were Ravenclaws, but there were a few from the other houses who had never had a chance to see an open display like this. Finally, Eric gave a demonstration, creating a circle then challenging one of the Slytherins to break it. Although highly confident, he soon became frustrated as every spell he cast simply spilled across the ward, with no actual effect.

Finally, a young Slytherin piped up. "So, how do you break it?"

Eric was too caught up in the discussion to mind what he was saying. "It's a magical barrier, not a physical one. You just walk over it."

"Oh, like this?" She stood up and stepped confidently towards him, wand outward. "_Distempers!_"

The bolt shot outward, striking Eric square in the chest. He flew backwards several yards before crashing downwards to the ground. It was several seconds before he could breathe enough to finish the thought. "Yeah, that would do it."

She rushed over to him. "I'm so dreadfully sorry! I didn't mean to, honest!"

Eric's entire body had become one big sore spot. "Ok, I'm just going to go back to our dorm and lie down." Twitching several muscles, he found that everything was struck numb. "Um, could somebody help me up?" Feeling arms to his left, he was very grateful to find Doran helping him upward.

Unexpectedly, he found the Slytherin girl to his right. "You can't go to the dorms now. You've got to see Madame Pomfrey right away."

Eric was instantly put off. Getting knocked off his feet by a spell was nothing. Going to the hospital would make him look foolish. "All I need is some rest. If I could just..."

Unfortunately, it was too late. She had already found Professor Flitwick, who was beside himself that one of his house was injured. "It's probably nothing, but best to be safe than sorry. Besides, it's very kind of this young lady to be so concerned. It would be rude not to accept. I must insist that you see Madame Pomfrey, at least briefly."

Eric went to the hospital, only to be berated for bringing in such a triviality. She was quite certain that a good meal and an evening's rest was all that was requred, which Eric was more than happy to comply with.

As he left for the main hall, he found the Slytherin girl waiting for him. "I'm glad it was nothing. I'd hate to have hurt you."

It suddenly struck him that she was familiar. "I'm sorry, but weren't you behind me, about three seats to my left at the welcoming feast?"

She seemed to blush a little. "Um, yeah. I'm Lenora Surrey."

"I remember you from my first year. I'm Eric Sable. Look, thanks for the concern, and no hard feelings. Right now, I just want to get some dinner and rest."

"Great! I'll walk you to the hall."

There was something about Lenora that made Eric uneasy. Perhaps it was that she seemed, well, a little too nice for a Slytherin. Yet, he liked her company, and regretted it more than a little that she had to go to sit with her own house when they reached the hall. After watching for a bit, he caught himself staring, and shook it off to rejoin his friends.

As he sat down, he found himself looking squarely into Naomi's eyes. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing." He couldn't say why, but he suddenly felt like he did something wrong.


	17. Chapter 17

During the next several weeks, the school tried it's best to continue on as normal, despite a cordon of dementors surrounding the grounds. Eric was continuing on his projects, and had managed to chart out the particular forces involved with the animagus transformations. Even Professor McGonagall, who had originally discovered Eric's abilities to develop magical paradigms, was impressed. "Have you ever considered becoming an animagus yourself?"

"Honestly, no. At the moment, I don't see a need to have another body to move in to. Besides, animagi have to register with the Ministry of Magic. Personally, I'd rather not have my movements watched."

McGonagall stared at him through her narrow spectacles before smiling. "You do surprise me, Eric. Most students don't think that far ahead. It's good to see that there are students who consider consequences."

Another curious development was the evening discussion group. It had grown to over thirty students from all four houses ( though admittedly, Slytherin had the fewest representatives ) talking about their classes and issues they were dealing with. Eric was able to develop his interests in the Celtic and Gaelic schools of magic with a number of other students including Penelope Clearwater, the prefect that welcomed him into Ravenclaw originally. She was an excellent student and had a clever mind, and Eric found himself looking up to her as a mentor for his studies, for she often gave good advice on how far his investigations should go, and when it would perhaps be best to let a topic drop.

Unfortunately, she also had the dreadful tendency to excuse herself whenever Percy Weasley showed up, and Percy had little regard for the evening discussions. "What is the point of these meetings? The instructors teach us everything we need to know." Clearly, he held little regard for independent study outside of the rules and order of normal classes, and it was a shame that the result was the loss of Penelope.

The professors themselves, for the most part, were supportive, and were extremely happy that students were taking such an interest in their subjects. The only negative words came from Professor Snape ( who couldn't see how any student would think that such haphazard investigations could possibly help them understand the intricacies of potion making ) and Filtch the caretaker, who cast an evil eye to the meeting every time the Weasley twins were involved.

To be fair, Filtch had a right to be concerned. Fred and George often had discussions going regarding the properties and values needed for nearly an infinite variety of prank items. It was easy to tell when they were up to something new. It tended to be centered on a problem that was complex, imaginative, and whenever someone asked why they were looking into it, the response was always two phrases spoken by one then the other:

"No reason."

"Just curious."

These became the hint to those talking that they were involved with something nefarious. This was only fair, so that students who didn't want to be in any way involved with their mischief could bow out gracefully. Of course, this only happened rarely.

The remarkable thing was that the two of them were actually quite brilliant. Their abilities to reason out needed magical patterns coupled with their tendencies towards mischief made for amazing possibilities. If they turned their interests towards serious magical research, the limits of what could be accomplished would be staggering. The cost, however, would be the hours of entertainment more and more students enjoyed as they began to be a part of the Weasley's pranks – not by actual knowledge or involvement, but simply by helping them solve the questions needed to pull off some new caper.

Then there was Professor Trelawney's studies on clairvoyance. Over the course of eight weeks, he had finally gotten to the point where he could summon an image, though he had no control over what he would see. The professor was not discouraged. "You're progressing quite well. It usually takes a full season to get this far, so you're a bit ahead of schedule. It takes about a year of constant practice to develop a clairvoyance reliably. Given your other interests, this will probably take longer. Don't be upset, dear. It's normal, and it's good not to build your life around these talents if you can't use them reliably, which we won't know probably until your last year. It's good to have another plan.

"Now, students will be going to Hogsmeade this weekend. Have a good time, but be sure to bring back a crystal ball. A small one is suitable, one that can fit in your palm. I recommend a stand for longer practices. There will be some colored, but I recommend a simple clear one."

Eric gathered his materials. "Yes, Professor." He was really looking forward to taking a break from things, but this wouldn't make a huge difference in his plans. He made his way outward and downward until he finally found his way to the Ravenclaw common room.

Dorian had waited for him. "Long night?"

"Longer than most. It seems to be working, though." Eric dropped his books and sagged into a deeply padded chair.

"Hey, lighten up. It's Halloween weekend – we're off to Hogsmeade!"

"I trust you both will have a wonderful time." Naomi seemed to flow out from a hallway shadow.

"Naomi – look, we're sorry. Is there anything we can get you?" She had become such a part of their lives, Dorian and Eric forgot that Naomi was a second-year. She wouldn't get to make the trip until next year.

"That's ok. You had to wait for your turn. I'll wait for mine." Something in her voice belied her words. She never had much inflection, but this time the disappointment could be heard.

The boys decided to avoid Naomi until after the trip, but they would bring her back something nice. As they rode the carriages down to the village, they began to plan their evening. Dorian was all for hitting Honeydukes Sweets and Zonko's joke shop. Eric, on the other hand, was more interested in Dervish & Banges. He needed a crystal ball. In addition, he wanted to stop by the post office on a personal matter.


	18. Chapter 18

The postmaster was, like so many other wizards, an elderly man and rather spindly. He had a terrible accent, as if he had spoken a few too many incantations in his time. In addition, he occasionally started his sentences with a sound like he was clearing his throat. "Ckhello, young man. Can I help you?"

Eric tried to steady his expression and tone. "Are you the postmaster, sir?"

"Tha's what it says on the door, sonnyboy. Now, you need help, or you just enjoy disturbing busy people?"

"Um, I'm sorry. How long have you been working here?"

"Since before Dumbledore had a beard. I wasn't postmaster then, but you didn't ask that."

"Do you remember someone named Evelyn Sable?"

"Who wants to know?"

"I'm Eric Sable – her son." He straightened up to the wizened man,

The postmaster paused before backing away from his work. He then stood and began shuffling towards a largish set of files. "Avery Pyginwhol; an' yes, I remember your mother. A quiet woman who never went out much. She was polite, though, and never too busy to help a stranger. That might be what finally did her in." He paused in his steps and peeked back at Eric. "Oy, sorry 'bout that."

Eric took it in stride. "That's ok. Was there a Mister Sable?"

"You stand in front of me an' ask me that? Of course there was a Mister Sable. If there weren't, I wouldn't be talking with his annoying son, now would I?" Avery turned to smile and pat Eric on the arm. "Just teasing, kid. Fact is, nobody ever saw Mister Sable, and I call him that loosely. There was no address they were having mail forwarded from, so I'd say they were trying to start a new life."

"Where did they live?"

"On the outskirts. It's a quiet hut away from everything. Very cozy – she had a little garden and everything. It was so cute."

"Who lives there now?"

"Nobody. It's too far away from the center of town, and it's bad luck owning a house after the last tenants were murdered. They usually end up haunted."

"Haunted?" Eric suddenly had an idea.

"Tha's what I said. You hard of hearing? Here!" He handed Eric a scrap of paper. "It's a map to get there from here. Now, be a nice boy an' let me get back to work." He turned back to his desk, but jerked his head up suddenly. "Oy! If you see your mother's ghost, tell her she still owes a Sickle for a postage fee."

Leaving the post office, Eric met up with Dorian, who was flanked by two Slytherin girls. The first was Lenora, who waved a cheery hello to him before taking his arm. The other seemed rather attached to Dorian, who introduced her. "Eric, do you know Tylena Vrye? She's a third-year Slytherin, too."

Eric remembered Tylena. She kept to herself, seeming to have an ability to avoid the notice of her housemates that Eric lacked. "Good to see you again."

Tylena smiled shyly. "Thank you. We were off to the Three Broomsticks for drinks. You are coming, right?"

Before Eric could respond, a sudden shiver bolted up his spine. In a sudden panic, he shrugged Lenora off his arm and looked about frantically for a window. Unfortunately, every glass window was stained, warped, or a thick waterglass. All of it was useless for visions.

He tore across town to the one place that could help him. Bursting through the door of Dervish & Bangles, his eyes darted about until he found a rack of crystal balls. His eyes shot across the shelf until one small crystal, barely an inch and a half in diameter, caught his eye. The image inside was warped, but clear enough to recognize a hooded figure in a grove of twisted trees.

Naomi was in the Forbidden Forest, and the sun had set.

Not taking time to explain, Eric grabbed up the crystal, snatched the first broom he saw, and bolted out the door with a clerk hot on his heels. "Here – you've got to pay for those!"

As Eric arced up towards the forest, he shouted back to the store. "I will, honest!"

As he flew high above the thick woods, he heard many sounds he wished he hadn't. Several creatures were on the move in the evening twilight, and most didn't like wizards. In desperation, he decided to try the crystal. His anxiety rose, however, when initial efforts to generate an image proved futile. Suddenly he noticed that when he held the crystal in his cupped hands, it formed an eye, and with a moderate amount of painful stretching, he could see through it.

Concentrating on his lost friend, he began to search again. This time, there seemed to be a glow, which shifted into an image of her, surrounded by a pack of werewolves. Closing the crystal in his hand, he shot off to where the image came from, carefully snaking through the twisted branches as quickly as he could. Soon he found himself face to face with the scene in the crystal. Naomi was holding the pack at bay with some fairly effective repelling spells, but they were closing in on her.

Throwing caution to the wind, Eric swooped into the midst of them, striking two with repelling spells before jumping off the broom, sending it crashing into a third. His fall was less than perfect, ending up face first in a pile of mulch. Looking upward, he could see the werewolves circling around him, each beginning to howl his or her own particular tone. However, none of the wolves openly attacked. Rather, they circled in an arc, closing slowly in on them but leaving a small gap facing Hogwarts.

Eric couldn't believe his luck, but wasn't about to question good fortune. Grabbing up Naomi, he began to bolt for the school. "What in the world are you doing out here?"

"I wanted to be alone, and I thought werewolves only came out during full moons."

"Those are cursed werewolves. This is a pack of true werewolves, who can transform anytime." Cutting sideways to an open cave, he pulled at Naomi's cloak. "In here!"

The cave was deep, wide, and without any major features, other than a scattering of rather large bones. Eric drew them to the side of the cave and leaned against the wall. "We'll be safe for the moment."

"Are you sure?" The cave entrance was already showing several wolves sniffing and pacing back and forth.

As if to answer her question, a low growling sound came from deep within the cave, prompting Eric to hold her tightly against the wall. There was a great shaking as a titanic mass of fur and muscle rushed before them, howling at the trespassing beasts. A flurry of snapping teeth lashed out at the intruders before the pack moved away, crying in disappointment.

Finally, the great beast turned back to the cave. It was a gigantic mastiff with three heads, all of which were turned towards the cowering students. In response, Eric began to sing. _"Oh, the keeper to the wood did go, and with him he did carry a bow, and for all to shoot at the barren doe – she's among the leaves of green-o."_ Naomi made a face which clearly indicated that she didn't think that Eric could carry a tune in a bucket. The effect, however, was the desired one. Although the beast didn't totally settle down, it seemed to accept Eric and Naomi as friendly, and not as invaders.

"Naomi – this is Fluffy. Don't touch him, don't startle him, and don't make any sudden moves."

"Well, that's a start, but how do we get back to Hogwarts?"

"Hagrid always checks on him around nine o-clock, to make sure he's tucked in. If he's not, that means that there's something going on in the forest that should be looked into."

"Like a wandering pack of werewolves?"

"No, actually that's normal. For that matter, that's why Hagrid got Fluffy in the first place. He was bred to hunt and to defend against werewolves. As long as he's here, they won't come too close to the school. They only came to the den tonight because they were following prey." Eric suddenly turned and looked her over. "You weren't injured, were you?"

"No, but thank you. If you hadn't come along, I'd probably be dead, or worse." She settled onto one of the more comfortable patches of the wall. "How did you know I was in trouble?"

Eric checked his pocket. Drawing out the crystal, he checked it against the bright moonlight outside. Thankfully, it wasn't damaged. "I'm afraid Professor Trelawney is right – I am clairvoyant. I sensed you were in trouble and I came to help."

"How did you get to your broom so quickly, if you were in Hogsmeade?"

Eric grimaced. "That wasn't my broom. I'm afraid I just destroyed a new purchase. Hopefully, it was a Cleansweep close-out. If it was a Nimbus, I'm doomed."

"Well, it was a rescue. Maybe they'll be merciful." Naomi shuffled again, then leaned up against Eric. "Do you mind? I'm sort of tired."

Eric shifted so she could settle comfortably against his shoulder, then decided to doze off while they waited. Either Hagrid or the dawn would be here soon enough, and either would suffice.

Hagrid did arrive, collecting the two of them and escorting them back to his hut. Word was sent to Dumbledore as to where they were and the happenings of the evening. Eventually, they were brought into the main hall. At the far side of the hall, Eric could see several of the instructors talking with the clerk from Dervish & Bangles. Although he initially seemed upset, his tone settled as the conversation continued. Eventually they broke up, with the clerk remaining by the door while the instructors moved towards Naomi and Eric. In addition to Dumbledore, there were Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, which didn't bode well for the two of them.

Dumbledore was the first to speak to them. "I trust that there were no permanent injuries?" Both Naomi and Eric shook their heads. "Good. Then we can get on with disciplinary actions. Fifty points will be taken from Ravenclaw in response towards a student being off grounds without permission. I trust the experience grants guidance regarding why the Forbidden Forest is to remain forbidden. In addition, fifty points will be taken from Ravenclaw in response to Eric's extremely rash actions. I trust you do have the money necessary to pay for a small crystal ball and a Cleensweep Five?"

Eric breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Yes, sir." It would mean draining most of his account, but at least he wasn't in a position where he couldn't keep his word. Even at the original selling price, he could afford it.

"Good. Although the storeowner was most upset at your presumptive exit, he has come to appreciate the situation, and will accept full payment for the items taken, leaving it to the school to deal with punishment. I expect you to offer a proper apology and your appreciation for his generosity.

"In addition, you will each be serving a week's detention, the manner of which will be determined later. Also, Eric is barred from the winter student's visit to Hogsmeade. I trust you will make good use of the time, so that you will be more available for the spring visit.

"Finally, to Eric Sable, for pursuing all needed actions to preserve the well-being of a fellow student and accepting the consequences, I award fifty points." Dumbledore straightened up. "I trust that's enough dispensation for this evening. I am rather tired. If you will all excuse me."

After waiting for the clutch of professors to break, Eric and Naomi went over to the door where the clerk was waiting. They offered their apologies, with Naomi explaining that everything was her fault. The clerk was indeed as understanding as Dumbledore had suggested. "As long as you pay for the merchandise, there's no real harm done – but I can't have this go unpunished. It sets a bad example." The clerk reached into his coat, then drew out a small pewter claw. "By the way, as long as you're buying the crystal, you might as well get the stand, too."


	19. Chapter 19

The pace of life settled in once again after Halloween. There was that incident with the Gryffindor portrait and everyone blaming Sirius Black, but a search of the grounds proved fruitless. Professor Lupin had turned ill, so Professor Snape was covering for him. This resulted in the class skipping ahead to defense against werewolves, while Snape bitterly complained about the class being so far behind. While it was true that they weren't as far along as they should be, that was more Professor Lockhart's fault from last year. If he would've spent more time on the material and less on his biography, the class would've known what to say. As it was, Professor Lupin was making excellent time drawing the class back to where it belonged.

Eric knew most of what was known about werewolves. He had written an essay shortly after the trip to Hogsmeade, inspired by his encounters. A true werewolf – one born of a werewolf pack – was usually pretty easy to spot. They lack most forms of manners, tend to be feral in appearance when in their human state, have difficulty with complex words, and they're rarely seen in large populations.

There are occasions that such packs can live peacibly with their neighbors. The pack in the Forbidden Forest was a prime example, for there was no doubt that they would occasionally go into Hogsmeade – particularly to the Hog's Head for drinks, trading valuable materials taken from the forest to get money. This was considered no matter so long as there was no trouble. The only secret was to respect the territory of a werewolf pack. Anyone entering it ( like Naomi did ) was considered prey.

Cursed werewolves were a far more difficult matter. They were essentially normal people who ran afoul of another werewolf, but only was injured by it. A werewolf's curse was a human affliction – animals were immune to the effects ( though it rarely mattered – only a beast like Fluffy could properly stand up to a werewolf ). Such victims would lead normal lives for about 80 of the lunar cycle, and be otherwise indistinguishable from others. Only when during the five days of the full moon would the curse be evident.

The full moon was every werewolves undoing. For a true werewolf, the brightness of the night to them was as a sunny day. If the sky was clouded over, they could still sense the moon, drawing them out for a monthly revelry of violence. For cursed werewolves, however, the lunar cycle was a wheel of torture. Transformations were most likely in the middle three of the five day cycle, but then the victim would be given over to the wolf's nature, disconnected from their human natures and with an appetite harbored up over the course of the last month. With that much pressure behind their actions, there's no wonder that they are as dangerous as they are. Once the night is over they recover, but as they are of two disconnected natures, they wake up with no memory of their actions.

Eric concluded his essay noting that the human community have always treated werewolves improperly. Cursed werewolves were people with an affliction. Such people should be aided, not hunted. True werewolves, on the other hand, were creatures of nature and could be dealt with peaceably so long as their natures and habits were understood and respected, much the same as any other creature. Given their abilities to freely roam in places where humans would be little more than a meal, their potential has truly been wasted.

If Eric's thesis could be considered sympathetic, Professor Snape wasn't. "Are you suggesting that after several thousand years of experience, we should simply pat these creatures on the head and make nice?"

"Um, no sir. Werewolves are intelligent, and would take offense at such treatment. I am suggesting that we respect their territories and leave them alone. In time, we could peaceably co-exist. Those cursed with the transformation should be aided, not hunted."

"This is the most worthless pile of garbage I have ever read." Drawing out his wand, Snape threw the papers into a pan and incinerated them. "Have another essay ready for me to read tomorrow morning."

Eric left the room less than dejected. He knew Snape probably wouldn't like the essay, considering how much he clearly disliked werewolves. In addition, this would be the perfect chance to avenge himself for the embarrassment Eric caused him. This is why, when he wrote the paper, he used an enchanted pen that later copied the work – mark for mark and ( admittedly ) overwrite for overwrite. He'll skip Snape's assignment and hand his essay over to Professor Lupin. Even if it was considered radical, at least it'd be judged fairly.

When Lupin returned, he did find the paper rather radical. "An interesting essay, Eric. I'm surprised at your views, though, given your experiences."

"We were in their territory, so we were the ones looking for trouble. I don't apologize for defending ourselves, but that's a natural response. People go through their lives feeling that they should be able to do whatever they wish, and anything that gets in their way is inferior or evil. Werewolves aren't evil, just terribly misunderstood."

The professor sat back and thought for a minute. "How, then, would you explain the large number of times that werewolves have served evil wizards?"

"The wizards gave them what they wanted – more territory, more prey, more freedom, and a reason to attack those who had attacked them. If people were more tempered in the way that they deal with these creatures, they'd never be fodder for evil armies. A dark wizard could never tempt a werewolf out of territory where it was secure."

"What about those who were cursed?"

"Very little has been done in terms of researching a cure for lycanthropy. Dark wizards offer the cursed werewolf control over his or her affliction. Beyond that – people are people. Some will jump at the chances, others will agree reluctantly. Some will agree to save their lives, while others will simply refuse. It's all very personal, like anything else."

Professor Lupin sat back. "Well, your arguments are consistent. I'll review the essay and let you know your grade in time. Dismissed."

As Eric left the classroom, he was met by Doran and Naomi. "Well, how did it go?"

"I'm not sure. I am pretty sure that whatever I get, I will have been graded fairly."

Naomi joined in. "Well, at least that was better than with Snape. I must admit, though, you were fairly generous in your writings."

"Sorry, Naomi, but it was true. You went into their territory. Technically, you were prey. Next time you want a quiet place for yourself, allow me to suggest a few rooms beneath the school."

Dorian looked over to him. "By the way, Lenora was looking for you."

"I'm sure she was." Eric shivered at the thought: he had left her without a word explaining why. There was no time to, but Slytherins weren't known for their depths of understanding.

As if to add to the discomfort of the thought, several Slytherin students poured out of a corridor, with Lenora among them. Seeing Eric, she excused herself and turned to him. "I'd like it if we could talk for a minute."

Eric really wished that he could keep his friends around for this, but that wouldn't be polite. "I'll be with you all in a while."

Dorian looked over with a sly smirk on his face that Eric just wanted to smack off. Naomi, however, unexpectedly reached to Eric's arm. "Don't go with her."

He turned to her, meeting her deep, dark eyes. Naomi had a knack when it came to looking out for him. She seemed to know so much, he wished he could tell her how much he wanted to take her advice. This, however, was a matter of courtesy, and it wouldn't have been right not to at least explain things.

Strangely, she let go of his arm. "Well, we'll see you back at the house." She almost seemed to smile, though it was too brief to be sure. "Come on, Dorian."

Lenora began to stroll towards the courtyard. "You took off so quickly."

"Yeah, well, Naomi was in trouble."

"Why didn't you just tell someone?"

"What would I say? I didn't know what was going on until I got to Dervish & Banges. Even then, what would I tell them? There wasn't enough time to convince the local constable that I have second sight, and that a friend of mine was in danger. I didn't even know precisely where she was. All I could do was go myself."

"You care a lot about her, don't you?"

Eric stuttered uneasily. "Um, well, she's a Ravenclaw, and a friend."

Lenora stopped and turned to him. "I thought I was a friend, too."

Eric could feel the heat rising up his neck. "You are, It's just that she was in trouble."

She stepped closer to him and took his hand. "So, if I was in trouble, you'd drop everything to rescue me?"

He could feel every muscle in his arm twitch. He couldn't stop his hand from shaking. "S-sure, if you needed me to."

"Thanks – that's all I needed to know." She gave his hand a tight squeeze before letting go and strolling away, flashing him a bright smile. "See you!"

Once she was out of sight, Eric found a dark alcove to rest in for a few minutes. He'd hate to walk in on his friends only to be grilled as to why he was shaking. What was worse, he didn't have a good answer.


	20. Chapter 20

The seasons passed into Winter. Eric continued to improve his clairvoyant abilities, shocking Professor Trelawney. With diligent practice and a lot of concentration, he could now bring up an image of someone he was familiar with, about one time in four. Although he was extremely frustrated with it, the professor was beside herself with glee over his 'rapid progress'. She even had him demonstrate some of the simpler clairvoyant tasks to Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster, as well as for Professor Flitwick. Although McGonagall and Flitwick seemed more than a little annoyed at the demonstrations, Dumbledore was very complimentary to Eric and openly commended Professor Trelawney for her diligent work.

Another thing that was developing at an alarming rate was the evening discussion group, which eventually evolved into a gathering called the Twilight Circle. Although Eric initially balked at naming the group, it did have an advantage or two. Firstly, rooms could be reserved when the weather turned cold. Second, Dorian had taken on the organization of the group, which basically meant occasionally printing fliers listing current topics being discussed, as well as handling all the arrangements. He and Tylena were having a wonderful time with the details. The only thing that fell to Eric and Naomi was to remind them on a regular basis that the group thrived from a lack of rules.

While all this was going on, Eric continued to develop essays. His Transformations term paper was a long dissertation regarding the ethics of transformation magic. Professor Flitwick gave a rather complementary grade to his work on alternative magical disciplines. His work on ward and sentinel spells received top marks from Professor Lupin. Meanwhile, although he was now Hagrid's student, he continued to help with the labor work involved with Magical Creatures, which secured his grade.

There were times when he wished that he could just take classes like everyone else. It was the one drawback to growing up in a school of magic – the expectations were much higher than for everyone else. There was, however, one class that Eric was doing dismally in: Muggle Studies. It was worse than sorting out the behavior of magical creatures, since most creatures have straightforward patterns that were consistent from one to the next.

Muggles, it seemed to Eric, were very much like wizards: each one was unique. This would normally suggest that they'd be easier to sort out, except that it seemed that anyone who bothered to write a textbook about muggles tended to be rather biased about their social preference. No matter what the textbooks said, Eric could never approach the subject by assuming that muggles were 'inferior'. His studies in history indicated that every time someone made their decisions based on relative superiority, the outcome was most regrettable.

He was pondering this question in the Ravenclaw common room while the coaches were boarding for Hogsmeade and the winter trip. Dorian offered to bring him back something, but Eric turned him down. At least, he didn't offer any suggestions. If Dorian wanted to get him a Christmas present, that'd be different.

As he looked over his textbooks again for a better lead, he felt a tingle in his spine – he was being watched again. Turning about, he saw Naomi standing by the hearth. "You're not even seeing Dorian off?"

"He'll be back soon enough. There's no sense in torturing myself."

She suddenly looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it. I'd do it again in a minute if you needed help." He was suddenly grateful for the dim light, as he could feel himself blushing at the admission. "I see you've packed to go home."

"So have you. I thought this was your home."

"Hagrid's sending me to Mrs. Peal's for Christmas this year. He says it'll do me some good. Personally, I'm worried about him and Buckbeak. I've asked Willy to make sure he's cared for while I'm away."

"Good idea." She turned her attention to the books in front of him. "Looks like you have a problem."

Eric explained the course, and his feelings about the information in front of him. Naomi nodded to him. "It's much the same in the muggle world. People become ambitious, thinking that they're better than everyone else while those around them underestimate the threat. The result is a big mess for everybody. You've got the right idea. Why not pursue it?"

"Because I need a good grade in Muggle Studies. Potions is already a drag, and I don't need two bad grades on my records."

Naomi paused for a second. "Well, maybe you could spend New Year's with us?"

Eric was momentarily stunned. "You're inviting me over?"

"Sure. New Year's at our house is usually pretty quiet, and Norman can take us both to the train station the next day. I'm sure mum and dad won't mind; they'd be more than thrilled that I'm becoming social."

They spent the rest of the evening making plans. Eric would come over that day. They'd spend a part of the day with Naomi teaching Eric the basics of muggle life, with the evening set aside for some kind of entertainment ( something called a 'movie' ). Before they turned in for the night, Eric checked with Mrs. Peal.

"My dear, that would be a wonderful idea, and if Mister Wainwright doesn't agree, Naomi is invited over here and you can show her about how wizards live their home lives."

Eric grew embarrassed at the idea. "I think she gets enough of that here, but I'll extend the offer."


	21. Chapter 21

Christmas at the Peal's was like nothing Eric had ever encountered. Her family wasn't large, but it was warm and welcome. David, it turned out, was engaged to Jennifer – the lady Eric had seen when he had called after the hippogriff incident. Mister Peal was a welcoming, friendly man of reasonable stature and gentle disposition. His great pastime was regailing Eric with stories of wizardly contributions to muggle affairs. His favorites were steeped in a pair of conflicts known as the Great War and the Big War.

Mrs. Peal, however, was slightly less impressed. "Dear, the way you love those stories, you'd think you lived through those times."

"But that's not the point, my love. We can't forget that we're not on two separate worlds. Our fates and the fates of the muggles are one in the same. We may not be part of the same societies, but we have as much an interest in their problems as they have in ours."

Eric looked to Mr. Peal. "Sir? You mentioned a Great war, and a Big war. Is there going to be a Great Big war?"

His face suddenly turned downward. "Let us pray not, young man. The muggles abilities in the arts of war far outstrip any talents we have to temper them. If such a war ever took place; it would be sudden, violent, and in the end there would be nothing left to fight for."

"You sound as though you know a great deal about muggles."

Mr. Peal's beaming smile suddenly returned. "Young man, I wrote the definitive text on the subject of Muggle Societies back in the Seventies. Mind you, it fell out of favor during the last decade. Seems I was a little too sympathetic with my subject, and not clinical enough." He bent forward in a comical attempt at secrecy. "Between you and me, I don't think the Ministry wants wizards to admit that muggles are our equals in any way."

Eric looked at him quizzically. "Are they?"

"Eric, there are societies all over the world that do things differently, depending on their resources. The same goes for muggles and wizards. We're all the same, just with different resources, talents, and abilities. Here!" He went over to a bookcase and drew out a hefty tome. "A copy of my book. Try studying that instead of the watered down paste they've been feeding you."

Mrs. Peal stepped into the room. "All right boys, enough of that. Dinner is ready."

"Come on, boy, this is not to be missed!" Eric followed his extremely excited host into the main room only to stop at the entryway. Although the feasts at Hogwarts were far more elaborate, the fact that he was joining in such a family scene was a reality he wasn't ready for, and it took him several seconds to compose himself before entering so that he wouldn't be a blubbering fool.

New Years at the Wainwright's also promised to be a treat. After a bit of discussion, Roger invited Lymeon and Clareone for the day, so that they would have a chance to talk. The day began with the group of them entering Roger's car outside of the Leaky Cauldron. Eric was feeling slightly out of place being driven about London, until Mrs. Peal reminded him that it was a complication to have wizards wandering about. The offered car trip was a simple courtesy in order that everyone would arrive at a proper time.

As they entered the building, they encountered a tall, elderly gentleman. "Welcome, all of you. I am informed that you are all wizards. I assume you have your wands?" The three guests looked at one another before allowing Lymeon to nod in reply. "Very good. If you will look to your left, you will find a rack for them. I deeply regret having to ask that you set such treasured items aside, but we've found that they have a most regrettable effect on the appliances."

Eric was deeply unsure about relinquishing his wand – such things simply weren't done. Mr. Peal, however, chose to be the example for the group. "But of course! It's not like we'll need them for a while." Stepping forward, he took out a simple but effective looking wand, and sheathed it in a tall rack containing over a dozen individual stalls, which was clearly made for the purpose. It made Eric feel a little better to see that the rack was already occupied by a six and a half inch ebonwood. Eric could all but sense a chimera-mane core, meaning that they weren't being asked to do anything less than family was.

The day was more of a standing buffet. Eric didn't understand at first why there was so much food until more guests arrived. It was the Bells, related to the Wainwrights by Naomi's mother Dorothy. A few other guests arrived, all familiar faces from Diagon Alley. As he watched, Naomi snuck up on him from behind. "We entertained for father's family on Christmas, and explained that we'd be opening the house for mother's family and friends for New Years. Grandmother wanted to meet them, but we offered some polite excuses. She doesn't know about wizardry, and we think it might be best to leave things that way."

The guests spent the day in a variety of activities. Roger and Lymeon had most of the men engaged in a discussion on the joint history of muggles and wizards. Most of the women were discussing current events, with Dorothy acting as hostess despite Norman's objections. The kids were wandering about, discussing the gifts they received for Christmas and what they planned to do with them.

Eric tried to join in, but the clamor was too much for him. Katie Bell took him aside for a while and talked, catching up on everything he'd been up to since they first met. "These big parties are draining if you don't know how to handle them. Don't feel that you have to join in if you're not up to it."

Eric thanked her for her kindness, receiving a quick hug in response. Katie had taken up a 'big sister' role in his life ever since he was kicked out of Slytherin house. As he watched her head back to the party, Eric wondered how big his adoptive family had gotten over the years, and how big was it going to grow?

"If Master Eric is ready, I have a room upstairs for him." Norman was about the most polite person he had ever met, and he was far from a liar. The room was simple, and lacked many of the little amenities that most of the other rooms had, like clocks that showed numbers instead of dials and strange lights which were neither magic nor candles. Instead, oil lanterns and candelabras bathed the room in a soft, familiar glow. "It is considered polite to see the other guests off, but you will be able to retire here."

Eric opened a window briefly to let in Midget and Widget, who were previously resting in a fairly warm alcove. It was clear, however, that they were very grateful to be let into the warm room, finding a perch close to a heating vent to drive warm air into their feathers. Eric was taking a minute to enjoy their company when Naomi showed up in the doorway. "Settling in for the evening?"

"Not really. I just wanted to let the owls in."

"If you've got some time, I'd like to show you something."

Eric followed her into a darkened room. It seemed to have almost a cathedral atmosphere, one that was enhanced by the stone gargoyles in the corners. "What kind of room is this?"

"It's my room. Tell me, have you seen anything like this?" She held up a small flat disc, about five inches in diameter.

"Um, no." Eric continued to examine the furnishings, which were a mix of gothic symbolism and darkened Ancient Egyptian. That aside, he didn't know too much about any girl's room, other than the fact that he wasn't supposed to be there.

She took the disc and placed it in a large box. "Relax – I just want you to listen to something." As she pressed her fingers against the face of the box, lights on the front sprang to life. Suddenly, rich sounds began to come from faceless panels on the box. A clear voiced singer was lyrically reciting poetry, backed up by a wealth of instruments. "Well?"

Eric paused a moment longer. "Ok – I'm neither superstitious nor stupid. There's nobody in that box, so it's a sealed memory of some kind. Only... how?"

Naomi settled in a chair. "I'm not quite up on all the technology myself, but it's a recording. The discs are like a strange scroll that the box reads. It has the ability to take what it reads and makes music from it. Aside from that, I don't know much about it, other than I have to do without it for nine months out of the year after growing up with it at my fingertips." She paused for a while as more music played out. "What do you think of the songs?"

Looking over to Naomi, he could see her swaying lightly back and forth. He knew why; the melodies and richness of tones were unlike anything Eric had ever encountered. "It's better than flying."

The next morning, the Wainwrights continued to prove that they were excellent hosts, providing Eric with an extensive breakfast before heading to Kings Cross. The trip back to Hogwarts was gratefully uneventful, with all the students swapping stories about what they received for Christmas. Eric's presents weren't too bad, either. The cloak Mrs. Peal bought for him was actually adult sized, taken up considerably. She promised to let it out each year until he was fully grown. Mr. Peal's book was worth more than it's weight, which was considerable. The material presented was the first balanced essay he ever read. Even if he couldn't find supporting information, the contrast it provided would make an excellent essay series.

As he arrived at the school, however, the troubles he left behind came crashing back. While Hagrid was, indeed, cleared of any wrongdoing, the Ministry decided that Buckbeak, the hippogriff that attacked Draco, was another matter. A tribunal would be held to determine his fate. Hagrid was beside himself, but he was already receiving help from Harry Potter and his friends. Eric knew that Hermoine was an excellent researcher, so any assistance he could offer in that regard would probably be redundant. The best thing he could do is to keep Buckbeak and the rest of the hippogriff herd in line.

As he made his way back to the dorm, he encountered Lenora, who was clearly in a foul mood. "I heard you spent New Years with Naomi."

Eric didn't bother to ask how she found out. "Not exactly. I spent New Years at the Wainwrights, and a lot of people were there."

"Why didn't you spend New Years with my family? We would've made room."

Eric began to get frustrated. "You didn't offer, and lately Mister Wainwright has been helping me get from Diagon Alley to the Hogwarts Express. It was just easier this way."

Lenora began to get huffy. "I suppose you'll be taking her to Hogsmeade this Spring, then?"

"No; she's a second-year. She can't go until next year."

"And if she could?"

Eric was becoming rather weary. "Lenora, is there something you want?"

She stepped closer to him and began to whisper. "I want to know that I have Eric Sable as a close friend – a special, close friend."

Eric's heart began to race as every part of him began to panic. He had known that something was on her mind, but he didn't know how to respond to this. He felt as if he was back in Fluffy's cave with the werewolves on the outside, only Fluffy wasn't there.

Lenora's eyes narrowed. "No answer?"

Eric forced himself out of his nervous paralysis. "I would like to take you to Madam Puddifoot's. I would very much like to, please?"

Time seemed to pause while she considered what he said. Finally she smiled. "I look forward to it." Giving his arm a friendly squeeze, she turned and headed back out the hallway.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way to the Ravenclaw common room. All he wanted was to go to sleep. Unfortunately, as he passed into the common room, he saw Naomi waiting for him. Looking into her eyes, he could feel that he had one more hurdle to jump.

"You encountered Lenora on the way here."

"Has my life been turned into a pageant for my fellow students to gawk at?" He started to storm off to the boys dormitory.

"You shouldn't see her, Eric. She's not good for you."

He had made it to the stairs. "What would you know about it?"

"She's just using you!"

Eric was at the top of the steps. One more turn would put him safely in the boys dorm, and away from everything. Instead, he paused and looked back. "You may be right."


	22. Chapter 22

The coming months were far too busy to investigate Naomi's accusations. In the five weeks between the return to Hogwarts and the February visit, Eric filed two project papers, had ten clairvoyance practices with Professor Trelawney, and the Ravenclaw Quidditch team had two games. The first was against Slytherin, after which Lenora was admittedly in a good mood since Flint's team had managed to pound and batter their way to a narrow victory. The second was an annoying loss to Gryffindor, which left her less than cheery when her house fell into disgrace. Several Slytherins tried to sabotage the Gryffindor team. Not only did they fail, but the house got a serious demerit from their actions.

In the meantime, there were the Twilight Circle meetings. Several of the instructors had been seen during the meetings, apparently monitoring the subjects of the myriad discussions. Although Eric could admit that the topics sometimes ranged off of the 'approved' list, they never turned to anything too dark. Mostly, the students all kept to the basics – how to use magic in different ways or how to gain more power. Eric kept on with his studies of alternative magic, taking periodic breaks to discuss the behavior of magical creatures or to work out some new problem for Fred and George. The curious thing was that lately he wasn't seeing any results from their conversations. He began to get worried that the two of them were working their way to something big.

When the Spring visit finally came around, Eric couldn't be more relieved. True, it meant having to hold to proper manners all day, but at least he had Dorian and Tylena for moral support. The fact was, Eric envied Dorian; between the two Slytherin girls they were walking with, he had gotten the best of the deal. True, she had a superiority streak that was kind of hard to cover over, and she was an annoying perfectionist. However, there was a genuine kindness she had, especially when dealing with Dorian. As much as she criticized him, she was never cruel or mean, engaging in one kind of smirk or another to blunt whatever she said.

Lenora, on the other hand, was impossible to figure out. Although she seemed insistent on going to Madam Puddifoots with him, once they got there she couldn't stay put. She was constantly moving from one table to another, talking with any number of her friends while Eric simply followed along. Finally, he saw Dorian and Tylena call him over. Picking a discrete moment, he quietly shuffled over to join with his friends.

Dorian pushed over a soda. "Having a rough day of it, partner?"

Eric looked across the table at his friend. His companion was leaning against his shoulder, looking at Eric with the most sympathetic of expressions. "You wouldn't happen to know why she insisted I bring her here, when she's just going to go about talking with everyone else?"

She suddenly straightened up, looking very nervous. "No! As far as I knew, you two were going to be spending the day together. Besides, I had heard that this was your idea."

Eric thought for a moment. "Well, sort of yes and sort of no. It's complicated." Eric sighed and stared into his soda. "I hate complicated."

Dorian patted his shoulder. "Head up, my friend. Things aren't as bad as they appear."

"You know, I could just vanish from here, and she'd never notice."

Dorian broke into a mischievous grin. "Go for it!"

"Huh?"

"Let's go, right now!" He turned to Tylena. "You up to it?"

Only a moment's uncertainty passed across her face. "All right."

Eric thought hard. It would have to be something worth getting yelled at. A smile creased across his face. "I know just the place."

Sneaking out through the door, Eric noted that Lenora still hadn't noticed that he was gone. Gaining purpose from this, he led his friends up and out of Hogsmeade. Dorian was the first to notice. "You know, all the good shops are back that way."

"I know. This is something else."

Dorian looked concerned. "What else?"

"A haunted house."

Eric continued up the road until he found the house that Avery told him about. It was old and dilapidated, clearly abandoned. Tylena looked to her companions nervously. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Eric turned to Dorian. "Wait here and make sure no one else comes up this way. I should just be a few minutes."

Entering the house, Eric could smell the musty remains of old curtains. He also felt a strange sensation. It was kind of like the clairvoyant episodes he had been having, but it was directed. Following the sensation, he found himself in an open, furnished room. The roof had been leaking, and everything was in a horrid state of disrepair except for a chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. It was an older style, with crystals hanging from several points. The oddest thing was, the lowest crystal in the middle was glowing.

Eric knew that, by rights, he should leave it alone. Such enchantments were rarely beneficial. However, there was something about the blue glow it gave off that was more than welcoming. He could just feel that it was right. He could take the crystal and nothing unfortunate would happen.

As he grasped the gem, he could feel the room spin. When it stopped, everything remained, but standing in front of him was a young woman with extremely sharp features. "Eric – is that you?"

Eric could barely breathe. "Mother?"

She smiled briefly. "Yes – and no. Please let me explain.

"I'm a prepared memory. At the time when I'm enchanting this crystal, I'm in a lot of trouble. Very powerful people are looking for me, and they may kill me and take you. You're just a baby, sweet and innocent. I can't let anything happen to you. While I can't imagine you growing up without me, I can't keep you with me, so I'm going to – or rather I expect I have turned you over to Hagrid the Hogwarts groundskeeper. He's a bit uncouth, but he's got a heart of gold. I'm sure he took great care of you."

Eric smiled to her. "He did. I missed you, but he's been wonderful."

"I'm glad. Now, as for this crystal; I enchanted it, imprinting all my memories into it. It's a powerful spell and it most likely left me drained, but if I can't escape the people following me, magic won't save me. I'm happier knowing that I left a part of myself for you, to be there for you. We can talk, I can respond just as your mother would, and maybe I can show you how much I love you."

Eric looked to the crystal. The release was actually quite easy to figure out. "Can anyone else see you?"

"No, so you have to be careful when talking to me. Otherwise, your friends and teachers will all think you're off your noggin'." She smiled broadly. "Now, I haven't been through Hogsmeade in decades. Shall we take a walk?"

Eric left the house with a crystal around his neck and a song in his heart. Assuring his friends that he was fine, he led them from one shop to another, the image of his mother dutifully tagging along, apparently seeing everything he did. The shops and sights were a delight for her, and he really didn't mind showing her about, seeing as he finally had his mother back, even if it was only after a fashion.

As the evening started to draw to a close, the group of them made their way to the carriages. While they approached, Eric saw Lenora looking about, seeming rather upset. Although he quickly turned away to get to another coach, Evelyn picked up on the fact that something was amiss. "Oh! Who was that? Who was it Eric? Someone you don't want me to see? Turn about – I want to see her." Her questioning became more intense and irritating, worse because he was surrounded by his friends and couldn't tell her to shut up.

Dorian began to realize that something was amiss, but Eric waived him off. "It's just something I ate. I'll probably get some bread or something from the kitchen to settle things down before I go to bed."

Tylena wasn't as easily convinced. "Are you sure it isn't something more personal? Perhaps a certain girl who's bound to be trouble for you when we get back?"

Eric was about to respond sharply when he caught himself. There really wasn't any need to be unpleasant, and she was just teasing. "Look, I'm really not in the mood. Can we just let it go?" In the middle of all this Evelyn was looking totally dejected, as if betrayed by a most trusted friend.

When they got back to the school, Eric headed downstairs rather than to the Ravenclaw common room. Turning through some of the more darkened corridors, he made his way to his old studio. Upon entering, Evelyn was less than impressed. "Why are you bringing us here? What kind of dingy hole is this?"

Eric turned to the image. "To answer in reverse order: this dingy hole is my shop, where I made my first broom and my first wand. It's also where I lived for the six years prior to starting at Hogwarts. I brought you here so that we can finally talk."

Evelyn seemed to sigh for a moment. "Eric, I'm sorry. I shouldn't make things difficult for you. You have to understand, I've been in that crystal asleep for over ten years. I can't begin to tell you how good it is to interact with someone – _anyone_. I'm afraid I got too excited."

It was Eric's turn to sigh; his mother's confession took all the force out of his anger. "Yeah, well, it's just that she and I, well, things aren't working out. She's Slytherin..."

Evelyn suddenly became indignant. "_**I** _was Slytherin!"

Eric looked straight at her. "Well, so was I, but that didn't work out either!"

"No? What happened?"

So it was that for the next two hours Eric sat with the memory of his mother and filled her in on the highlights within the last three years of his life. Evelyn was, for the most part, very pleased, though disappointed that he couldn't work things out when he entered Slytherin house. "You know, not all Slytherin students are bad people. It would be impossible to justify continuing the house if that were the case."

"I know, mum. It's just that we didn't get along. They were too into being better than everyone else by knocking them down rather than building themselves up."

"That's because beating others down is the easier method. I'm sure Slytherin house still has many good students, too. That's the way it was in my day."

"I'm sure they do, I just don't know them. Look – I have to go. It's late." He paused for a moment. "I'm thinking of leaving the gem here, so that I can talk with you without being accidentally gawked at."

Evelyn looked disappointed, but nodded. "As long as you don't forget about me."

"I just found my mother again. I don't think you'll be apart from me for long." Eric held out his hand to her. She was just a memory, but it was as if they could almost touch. He took off the crystal and she was gone. As he made his way back to the Ravenclaw dorms, he almost felt like everything was just as it should be; but before he could enter the common room, a voice came out from a dark corridor.

"How dare you walk out on me?" Lenora came out of the shadows. The dark look on her face prompted Eric to quickly check to see if her wand was out. "I turned about to look for you, but you were gone. I felt like such an idiot."

Eric tried to hold his ground, but found himself backing away from her. "You were talking with everyone else. There was nothing for me to do but stand there."

"So where did you go, and why didn't you ask me along?"

Eric almost panicked. He didn't want to tell her about Evelyn, but he couldn't come up with a plausible story. "I just went about. I felt like being alone for a while."

"Well, you can be alone all you want now!" With that, she turned about and stormed down the corridor. Watching her go, Eric actually felt more relieved than sad. It was unpleasant, but at least it was over.


	23. Chapter 23

The next several months proved to be a struggle for Eric, more on an emotional level than a scholastic one. Hagrid returned with word that Buckbeak was to be executed. Suggestions of releasing him were to no avail. The threat of being sent to Azkaban was more than enough to hold most anyone back, especially with the dementors so close to remind people what resides there. As a result, Eric spent most of his off time with Hagrid putting Buckbeak through various exercises to keep him entertained.

Lenora began a smear campaign, telling everyone how poorly Eric treated her, how bad his manners were, and anything else she could come up with. At least, that's how it was through March. Her attitude softened through the next few months, and by Exams she had returned to popping up around almost every corner, telling Eric that it was all a misunderstanding and how special she thought he was.

Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup. Eric was disappointed that Ravenclaw didn't do better, but that was nothing new. Even with the team they fielded, they were no match for Slytherin's cheating or Gryffindor's aggressiveness.

His clairvoyance continued to improve. By Exams, he had reached the point where he could summon an image of anyone he knew fairly reliably. Professor Trelawney had moved on from simple mechanics to principles and ethics of clairvoyance, as well as beginning defenses from it.

The Twilight Circle began to break up as Exams grew close, with only a few die-hards staying together either to pursue personal projects or to prepare for their tests. Eric's circle continued to pursue Celtic and Gaelic spellcasting, which Eric was using for the core subject of his papers for History, Transformations and Enchantments.

Evelyn became his closest confidant. While the advise she gave was minimal, she listened carefully and was most sympathetic to his problems. When the weather improved, he made a point of wearing the crystal outdoors so that she could enjoy the world again.

As exams came to a finish, the day of Buckbeak's execution came closer and closer. Eric thought that he could handle it, but he couldn't. The hippogriff was simply too noble a creature to have come to this, and Eric decided to distance himself in the only direction he could – the Forbidden Forest.

He knew it was somewhat foolish, but he knew things Naomi didn't. As he made his way through the outskirts, he came across Hogwarts' thestral herd. One came from the herd and nuzzled his hand. Not having anything to feed her, he climbed a root to get a better angle in order to stroke her neck and muzzle. The creature responded most pleasantly, letting off a grateful rattling buzz.

Moving onward, he noted the thestral following him. "Go on, back to the herd with you." He gestured and gently encouraged, but the creature declined; it seemed rather taken with Eric. "Well, all right then; but don't get yourself hurt or Hagrid'll have my hide. He's got enough on his mind tonight." A howling wail pierced the quiet, which indicated that Hagrid did, indeed, have more than his shares of sorrows – and worked a little too hard to drown them.

As Hagrid's wails brought back thoughts of why he was hiding out, Eric got back to distracting himself. This, however, proved harder and harder as the evening moved on. This drew him deeper into the woods in search of something interesting. As he searched about, he heard another painful howling, but this one wasn't his guardian. This came from within the woods, near Fluffy's cave. Not wishing the wrath of Fluffy on his worst enemy, he worked his way over to the sound as quickly as he could. There he could make out the great beast barking and snarling at a bundle of bloody fur.

Eric knew he had to work quickly. "_I'll sing a song – come sing along – I'll sing a song for two. The words will be wrong – the lines are too long – for you, and you, and you_." Eric knew it wasn't very good, and there were a lot of made up words to keep the tempo going. It did the job, though, as Fluffy became disinterested in his prey, lumbering back to his cave and settling in.

Looking over to the fur that was being mauled, though, gave Eric a cold shiver. The beast was still alive, and was stealthily trying to limp it's way out of the clearing. Seeing it's form in it's entirety, Eric realized that he had just saved a werewolf. Planning the better part of valor, he put the thestral between the beast and himself. With luck, it could see the reptilian creature, and be heartily discouraged from attacking. A tense minute, however, demonstrated that the creature was in no mood to attack. Fluffy had injured it severely, and it was far more interested in rest and recovery.

Perhaps it was his earlier encounters, or just something about his nature, but Eric just couldn't leave the wolf hurt like that. He walked with it for a good distance, watching it carefully as it examined him. After a while, they came to another clearing; a small one with several hard-rooted alcoves. Seeing this, he looked over to the wolf and whistled. The creature stopped and growled, causing Eric to draw his wand in his left hand even as he motioned to steady the wolf with his right. Moving into the clearing, he slowly and cautiously worked several fallen branches into one of the alcoves, topping it with a pile of leaves. The work was slow and painful, doubly so as he was under constant threat from his traveling companion.

When completed, he backed away, casting an illumination spell that presented the padded bed. Looking to the wolf, he motioned to it. The creature moved to it, sniffing about uncertainly, taking several minutes to determine that it wasn't a trap. Once satisfied, though, it settled in to rest and lick it's wounds, padded, hidden, and reasonably well protected. Eric moved back to the thestral. Finding a climbing root, he drew himself onto it's shoulders and patted it, encouraging it back to the herd. The creature would find the fastest, safest path.

Returning to the border of the woods, he began working his way to the main castle. As he started to make his way back to the building, he found the school in an uproar. Buckbeak had escaped, Sirius Black had arrived and been captured, only to escape again, Snape was furious, and Hagrid was dancing a drunken jig in the courtyard. It was a wonder that the whole school wasn't looking through the windows at the chaos below.

For Eric, this was all a wonderful amount of cover. With it, he managed to make it all the way to the main staircase, and half way to the Ravenclaw dormitory before encountering anyone. When he did, it was merely Neville Longbottom, stirred up as much as many of the students, given all the commotion. "What's been going on?"

Eric felt it easiest to play dumb. "You got me. I've been out with the thestral herd for a better part of the evening. I didn't want to be around when they executed Buckbeak."

Neville was very sympathetic. "I know what you mean. Hey, you can see the thestrals, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, um, if you don't mind saying, who was it for you?"

"Who was what?"

Neville leaned closer and whispered. "Who did you see die?"


	24. Chapter 24

Eric carted his few belongings towards the train. More than anything, he wanted to go back to Diagon Alley. Looking back at Hogwarts, he suddenly felt a pang in his chest. For a long time, Hogwarts was home. Lately though, things had been changing as events continued to expose greater and greater dangers. Yet in the middle of all this was a gap; something was wrong, and he had to find out what.

As he loaded up his belongings, a friendly voice came out from behind him. "About set, are ye? Yeh're a bit early for leavin' this year."

Eric turned around to face Hagrid. "Have you got a minute?"

"Fer you, boy? Always!" He set a friendly hand on Eric's shoulder and lead him to a bench. "I could tell there were sumthin' on yer mind – yeh seem real bothered. Wha's tha' matter?"

Eric looked up to Hagrid. Whatever they had been through, he had always trusted his guardian without question. This was the first time his trust ever waivered. "Hagrid, you know last year when the basilisk was loose in the castle, and I was paralyzed? Well, on the trip down from the castle, I saw the thestrals pulling the carriages. That was the first time I ever saw them."

Hagrid began shifting uneasily. "Yeah, well, yeh were through a lot that year..."

"Hagrid, that's what I thought at first, but it doesn't work that way, does it? The night that Buckbeak got away, I ran into Neville Longbottom. He asked me who I saw die. It confused me at first, but then I looked it up. The Monstrous Book is really a good text – you did well by choosing it. It said that a person who can see a thestral has seen death. Not has been near it, not has almost died, but has seen death. Hagrid, when did I ever see death?"

Letting out a great sigh, Hagrid looked squarely at Eric. "Yeh have teh understand; yeh weren't supposed to remember. Tha' was part of the deal. Yeh see, durin' the Christmas break, yeh went wanderin' through the edge of the forest. Yeh weren't too deep, but jus' on the edge, mindin' yer place. Besides, it twere daylight, an' everythin' was all snowy. Anyhow, I wen' lookin' fer yeh, but yeh were gone. When I brought Fang out to track yeh, I saw that someone had come up and grabbed yeh.

"I was besides meself. I called out Fluffy, I let loose the thestrals, I cut loose everythin' I could to send to help yeh. My boy was in trouble, an' I had teh save yeh. I went after them straight away, an' they went boundin' high an' low, but stopped short all of a suddin'. Yeh see, you were dragged into the werewolves' territory, an' none of them beasts wanted teh go further."

Hagrid shuddered for a moment before continuing. "Well, Fang may be a bloody coward, but he is loyal, so he came with me goin' in that dark place, and there I found yeh, huddled an' shiverin', sittin' all alone in a small opening across from a werewolf pack. There were about a dozen or so beasts, all chewin' on one kind of bone or another.

"Didn' take much to figger wha' had happened. Whatever feller dragged you off fell in front of the pack, who were a bit too hungry just to maim 'im. By the looks of things, they tore him apart, but slow-like, as if they were lookin' teh punish 'im. Musta' been horrible. Thing is, they left you alone, didn' scratch yeh or nuthin'. Jes' sat there finishin' up wha' was left of yer attacker while I took yeh outta there.

"Well, yeh were fine an' all, but yeh were in shock. Yeh didn' eat nuthin', yeh didn' talk, yeh barely blinked. Dumbledore insisted that it be kept quiet, what with all the trouble we were already havin', this wouldn'eve helped. We let yer friends all come by, but nuthin' helped. Finally, we called a guy from Saint Mungo's, who said that yeh saw sumthin' so terrible, yeh just locked up.

"The best way to bring yeh out of it was teh make yeh fergit, an' that's what he did – cleared the whole thing from yer mind. We made yer friends promise not teh say anythin' either. 'twernt no point in it, anyway, since yeh couldn' tell anyone anything about that day. As far as yeh remembered, yeh had a normal holiday."

After finishing his story, Hagrid looked at his shoes. "I'm sorry, boy. We shouldn' ha' done that teh yeh, or I shoulda told yeh before now. Wouldn' do no harm, 'cept that I suppose yeh can't trust me now."

Eric leaned up against Hagrid, grabbing his arm. "I still trust you, Hagrid. You're my uncle, after all. At least now I know what really happened." Suddenly, he found himself buried in one of Hagrid's massive hugs. It was comforting to know that despite the fact that school and life were pulling them apart, Hagrid still wanted to be with him all the same; and he held on for as long as he could before waving that he had to come out for air.

"Well, yeh behave yerself, an' don' work too hard this year; try to enjoy things a little more. Maybe we can all git tegether for the Quidditch World Cup!"

"I'll speak to my father about it." The whisping monotones coming from Naomi's hood startled Hagrid as she came out from behind him. Eric took it much more in stride, having gotten used to her friend's eccentricities.

"You realize these games are simply the Ministry's method to control the minds of the world's wizards?" Luna Lovegood had joined the circle, bringing her own unique insight to the group.

Eric turned to her. "Of course, breaking the story for your father would be the scoop of the century, wouldn't it?"

She stared at him blankly for a minute before realizing what he was suggesting. "Very well, I'll be there."

"I'm in!" Dorian bounded up, dragging Tylena up to the rest of them. He quickly turned to her. "You'll join us, right? I mean, she can join us, can't she?"

The group looked at each other, frowning for an agonizing five seconds before answering. "We're just teasing, Dorian. Of course she's welcome."

Relief broke out on her face. "Thank you, all of you. There's no one I'd rather be with."

Getting on the train, the group of them took to their usual compartment. Having a fifth person was beginning to get cramped, but at least his circle of friends was growing. Settling into his seat, Eric pulled out his crystal ball, staring into it intently. At first there was nothing, but as time passed, the shadows seemed to pulse and move, until a watery image came into view. It was a graveyard, he didn't know where. In the middle of his sight, a large black dog rested on a patch of green, facing a simple slab: "_Evelyn Sable – Unknown"_.

Dorian looked over to Eric. "Found some nice lotto numbers, then?"

Eric smiled as he pouched the crystal. "I was looking for my father. I found my mother instead." Drawing out a small chandelier piece, he settled back into the couch as Evelyn cheerfully joined the quiet group for the long trip home. As if offering a welcome relief, the hours passed in blessed quiet.

As the train hissed in the station, the students began to pour out of the cars. As his friends began to head out from the compartment, he set a hand on Naomi's shoulder. "Um, look – I, ..." It took Eric several seconds to realize that he wanted to say something, but couldn't give it words. Instead, he took out a piece of paper. "Here. It's instructions on how to create a crystal memory. If you do it right, you should be able to cast it in your room without wrecking anything. It'll record your music so that you can have it back at Hogwarts."

She looked at the paper in her hand for several seconds, apparently stunned at it. Finally she stuffed it in her pocket and pulled her hood over her head. "Thanks."

Eric gathered his belongings and started to head over to where Lymeon and Clareone Peal were waiting for him. They were very glad to see him, for Willy had already made his way to the shop and was beginning to make a nuisance of himself, given that everything that could be prepared for his homecoming had been done.

They made their way towards the walls from which they would emerge into London proper, then off to the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley. However, before they could pass through, Fred and George Weasley ran up to stop Eric.

"Can we talk with you for a second? You've been running your own business for a bit, and we've come up with this great idea!"


End file.
